


Touch The Sky

by Usuishi



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Avian Au, Bird AU, Jean has bird wings, Jean is in it, Jean's language, M/M, Sassy Jean is sassy, Smut, The Wing Thing, Veterinarian Marco, mentions of past minor character death, no he's not an angel, obviously there is going to be cursing, pron, smut in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usuishi/pseuds/Usuishi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jean is a human/avian hybrid whom is a sarcastic little shit. When he breaks his wing, he's found by possibly the most gorgeous human being ever (hint: it's not Mikasa)<br/>Now Jean just needs to find a way to figure out why Marco gets so distant, and what is it with him and helping animals so much?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken Freedom

_“No one is free; even the birds are chained to the sky.”_

-Bob Dylan

Jean had never seen any reason to hide his wings. At least, he hadn’t until he had broken one of the feathered limbs. It left him in near-agony; every movement sending a ripple of pain that radiated from his shoulder outwards. It sizzled across his shoulder blades and its faintest waves reached all the way down to his bony hips. It had to have been the greatest pain he had ever been in. If it wasn’t, then he couldn’t remember any worse than the pain of his broken limb.

He never anticipated that someone might have heard his squawk of pain, nor the bangs as he fell down into the alley way he was now required to take shelter in. There was no way he could get home now with one wing useless, dragging behind him lamely. He nearly jumped 6 feet out of his skin when he heard footsteps approaching him from behind, from the mouth of the alley, and a voice called out to him.

“Hey, are you alright?” the disembodied voice asked, calling out to him with a twinge of worry. Jean nearly spun on his heel to face this stranger, his unbroken wing tucking behind him to be less visible, while the other drug along the ground, sending a stab of pain through the dirty blond’s system.

He let out a pained whine at the agony of it, surprised to feel arms holding him up only a few seconds later. Had he started to fall, passing out from the extremity of the pain? He hadn’t even been aware that his knees had given out from under him until he heard the dark-haired stranger nearly worriedly asking if he was alright. Still, if he was alright.

Of course he wasn’t, he had a broken wing! Who would be alright in this situation. It was then that he remembered that most humans didn’t have wings. The few that he knew of had escaped to the east, to get away from the large cities and their populations. They had fled to the open countryside, where they wouldn’t have to hide. Jean, however, had found himself drawn to the cities, their shining towers and busy sidewalks interesting him more than they had feared him.

Now he was full of nothing but fear, feeling the man’s hands on his arms, and his gaze on his broken wing. “Let go of me!” he insisted, pushing at the stranger’s broad shoulders. He fell back with a huff, quickly scrambling back away from the man. “I don’t know you. You could try to hurt me!” he nearly squawked out, trying to ignore the pain once again blooming in his shoulder blades. “Your wing is broken,” the dark haired young man said simply, “Let me help you. I can make it hurt less, and set it properly so that it doesn’t heal wrong. I’m not going to hurt you, really,” he said quickly, raising his hands in a defensive manner.

Good, at least he knew that Jean wasn’t afraid to strike out at him. “No shit, Sherlock,” Jean replied snarkily, rolling his eyes and grabbing his broken wing to hold it close to himself in defense, “Where did you learn how to tell, medical school?” he raised an eyebrow, not afraid to be sassy with this man. He still didn’t trust him; not even with the freckles dotting his face and neck. Especially not with the freckles. Cute guys couldn’t be trusted, Jean had previously learned.

The freckled man looked right back at him with a raised eyebrow, lifting his hand in a twisting gesture that most would take as a way of saying ‘Eh, you’re half right’. “Veterinary school, actually.” He said after a moment, shrugging his shoulders and lowering his hands again. “I really can help you, you know. I know exactly what I would need. It’s all back in my office.” Jean took a few moments to examine the man then, taking in his rather well-made clothing and clean-cut hair.

He did look like he did something that would pay well, as well as tired him out quite a bit. He fit the appearance Jean would put to a doctor or veterinarian. “Do you really think I trust you enough to go anywhere with you? Why don’t you just bring it all to me, that way I know you won’t put me on drugs or something and dissect me?” Jean snapped, amber eyes narrowing at the other man. “I don’t even know your name,” he pointed out after another moment, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

He nodded a bit, seeming to take that fact in for a moment before he smoothly replied. “I’m Marco. Marco Bodt,” he said cheerfully, smiling over at Jean, “The office is literally right across the street, you can even see it from here.” Jean looked around the taller man to see if he was telling the truth, surprised to see that he was. Trost Animal Care and Services sat right on the other side of the street, looking clean and busy, by the looks of the people sitting in the front office that could be seen through large windows. “How do you plan on getting me in there without anybody seeing me? Not everyone is as open as you are to people with wings,” he pointed out, uncrossing his arms and getting to his feet.

He nearly passed out from the dizzy rush that sent through his head, his vision fading for a few seconds as he swayed on his feet, then leaned against the alley way wall. “I’ll carry you. We can wrap a blanket around you and your wings and I’ll carry you through the back door,” he said simply, a cheery smile tugging at his lips. He seemed rather pleased with himself, just for thinking of the brilliant plan. Jean let out an annoyed huff, shrugging his shoulders a bit and looking off to the side. “Go get your huge ass blanket then, I guess. You’ll need a big one to hide my wings,” he muttered, frowning at the wall a bit, as if angry that he needed its support to simply stay on his feet; even if more of his weight was on the wall than it was actually on his feet.

Marco simply brightened his smile, practically beaming at Jean as he nodded and turned on his heel, jogging off to go retrieve a blanket for the fallen avian. He returned a short time later, the dark green fabric folded up and draped over his shoulder as he jogged back across the street towards the alley and Jean himself, still hiding out in the space between the two brick buildings on either side of him. “Here,” Marco stepped over to Jean and carefully wrapped the blanket around him, making sure Jean was holding his wing so that it wouldn’t have to be jostled so much as Marco picked him up and started heading back over toward the veterinary office.

Jean tried not to get too comfortable, especially with the fact that his face rested against Marco’s collarbone. He couldn’t help but notice the fact that Marco smelled really nice, kind of like a mixture of spruce trees and something else that he couldn’t quite name. Maybe laundry detergent.

Marco carried Jean around the back of the veterinary clinic, taking him inside the back door and into his office. He set Jean down onto the table and carefully spread his wing out, examining the feathered appendage with gentle, careful touches. Jean winced a little, frowning a tiny bit at Marco. "Careful," he muttered softly, trying not to shift on the table and cause himself any more pain.

He couldn't help but whimper softly, the ruffling of the aching feathers sending small rivulets of pain down his spine. "Sorry," The dark haired man muttered, gently getting up and going to grab some bandages from a cupboard nearby. "I'm just going to set the bones that have fractured, and then bandage your wing so that it will heal properly," he said softly, gently adjusting Jean's wing so that it was laid out properly, not even bothering to warn the two-tone dirty blond.

Jean let out a loud squawk of pain, his eyes closing tightly and his back nearly arching off the cool metal table from the pure agony of the movement. He heard footsteps hurriedly approaching, and rushed to stifle his own sounds of pain. "Marco? Is everything okay in here?" he heard a masculine voice call out, and Jean didn't have time to escape in any way before a brunette head peeked into the room.

He nodded almost minutely, a small shake of his head that Jean himself hardly even noticed, and he was sitting right next to him. "Yeah, sorry. I'm trying to set a wing, Eren," he replied nonchalantly, beginning to wrap the bandages around a fidgeting Jean's wing. The other young man nodded a bit, hardly giving Jean a passing glance. Why was everyone here so calm about the fact that he was a human with the wings of a white throated sparrow? Why didn't anyone lock him up or take him away to be shown in a zoo?

The thought didn’t stay in his mind very long, another small whimper of pain slipping from his lips as Marco began to wrap the bandaging around his wing tightly. “Sh-Shit,” he breathed, his voice coming out in a soft whine. “Sorry,” Marco simply muttered, not sounding very sorry, “It’ll hurt less as it heals though,” he said softly.

He paused after a few moments, just seeming to think of something. “Do you have somewhere safe to stay, and a way to get home until your wing heals?” he asked, looking over towards Jean. The Avian could do no more than shake his head, letting out a deep breath. “I live alone, out on the edge of the city,” he admitted after a few more long moments of awkward silence. Marco blinked at him, shaking his head a little bit. “You can stay with me until your wing heals. I can take care of you,” Marco said quickly, nodding his head in a definite firm action. Jean started to protest, but Marco gave him a look that quickly had him simply gaping like a fish for a few moments, before he looked back up at the ceiling.

“How are we getting to your place, then?” he asked, letting out a deep breath that was sure to let Marco know he had won this argument. He was simply too exhausted to argue properly, and the pain tore his concentration away from being ridiculously sarcastic.

“I have a car,” Marco said quietly, finishing his current task, “You’ll have to wait in my office until I get off of work, but no one will bother you in there, so you won’t have to worry about being seen.” “Why doesn’t anyone seem to care about my wings?” he asked then, that question bothering him now that Marco had brought it up.

The dark haired man shrugged at that, looking over at Jean. “We’re veterinarians, Jean. We don’t care what something is. If it’s injured, and we can help it, then we’re going to. Those are my thoughts on the matter, anyway,” Marco said simply, sitting up straight and stretching his arms out with a content groan.

Jean nodded a bit, taking Marco’s words into his mind and considering them for a few long moments. “I suppose that makes sense,” he hummed in thought, sitting up carefully and looking down at his injured and bandaged wing. Marco nodded a bit, getting up from the stool he had been sitting on, and going to put away the unused bandages.

“The office is down the hall and to the left, if you want to head there and wait for me to get off of work,” he said softly, looking over at Jean. The avian hummed and headed for the door, not even considering the fact of his shirtless-ness. He stepped out into the hall cautiously, slipping down the hall to head into the room Marco had directed him to.

A heavy wooden desk sat in the far corner, its front facing towards the door so that if he sat down, his back would be to the wall. A computer rested atop the dark cherry wood surface, sleek and foreign to Jean. Sure, he had seen a computer for, but never one that looked so new. Most of the one’s he had seen were large and bulky and an ugly beige color.

Jean went over to perch on the spinning chair, humming as he ran his fingers over the smooth surface of the laptop’s lid. He let out a sigh and spun around in the chair lazily, his feet slowly dragging along the floor. This was going to be a very long few hours. Eventually Jean learned how to use the modern contraption before him, getting onto Youtube and doing what every bored person does on the internet.

He watched cat videos for several hours, laughing until his stomach ached and his wings stung with the pain of his shoulders quaking. The feeling was hardly noticed by the laughing avian, though as soon as his giggles died down the pain became much more pronounced.

Jean winced, letting out a soft whine as he stretched his back out. A few moments past before he realized he heard footsteps coming his way, and not two seconds after he made this realization, Marco stepped into the office. He glanced over at Jean, his eyes flicking between the laptop and his own amber eyes for a few long minutes.

“Were you on my laptop?” he asked, almost sounding terrified by that thought. Jean nodded a bit, and the dark-haired veterinarian rushed over to look over the screen of the electronic.

“I was just on Youtube,” Jean reassured, and Marco seemed to relax at that, nodding a bit and shutting the laptop’s screen.

“Okay… Are you ready to head to my place?” he asked, picking up the laptop and tucking it into his laptop bag. He grabbed his jacket as well, humming and heading for the door. Jean nodded and followed after Marco, carefully holding his wing so that it didn’t simply drag along the floor.

They headed out the clininc through the back door, making their way discreetly to Marco's car. "Here, you can sit in the back seat and wrap a blanket around yourself again to stay hidden," Marco unlocked his car and offered a large blanket to him. Jean himself decided it probably wasn't a very good idea to ask why the blanket was back there.

The dirty blond took the blanket and carefully draped it over his shoulders, covering his wings mostly from sight. They mostly just seemed like an awkwardly shaped bundle over his back and along the sides of his ribs. Marco opened the back seat of the car for Jean, holding it open as the avian carefully slipped into the back seat, settling against the grey cushions of the dark-haired young man's car.

"How far away is your place?" he asked curiously after watching Marco as he closed the door of his car and rushed around to the driver's side. He sat down, looking back over his shoulder as Jean spoke.

"About ten minutes away from here," He responded with a small raise of one of his eyebrows, "Why? Do cars make you nervous? I know some animals get nervous in vehicles like this. My cats never stop meowing on car trips."

Jean huffed, feeling his feathers ruffle irritably. "I'm not an animal, the car doesn't bother me. I was just wondering," he muttered, frowning a little and resting his head back against the window. Marco gave Jean an apologetic look, turning back in his seat to face the front again. He turned the car on and began to pull out, Jean almost immediately tensing in the backseat and looking around.

"Okay maybe cars make me a little nervous," Jean admitted, nearly hiding in the blanket he was wrapped up in. Marco's laugh rang in his ears, though he found the sound not all to unpleasant.

Indeed it did only take about ten minutes to get to Marco's apartment building. Marco pulled into the parking lot and glanced around the paved area, before he nodded and got out of the car.

He went around to open the door for Jean again, making the avian jolt in surprise. A light pink flush spread over his cheeks, and he got up out of the car, closing the door behind him and following Marco into the building. They just barely managed to get an elevator to themselves, Marco having decided that close proximity was not a good mixture with Jean's wings.The dirty blond was quick to agree, not really wanting to be squished into a small space with more than just one other person.

It seemed like a ridiculously long ride up into the building before they reached Marco's floor, his wings twitching with the anxiety of being in such a cramped space for so long. His body didn't seem to care that the elevator had only taken a few short minutes to reach the floor Marco's apartment was on.

As soon as the metal doors slid open Jean slipped out of the elevator, nearly bolting out of that small space. Marco didn't crack any jokes about that, seeming just as happy to get out of the elevator as Jean did.

They made their way down the hall until Marco stopped at one of the doors, the number 314 barely registering in Jean's mind as the door swung inward a moment later, and Marco led him inside.

Jean had always had a problem when it came to new places. He liked to stare; take every possible detail of a place in when he was first entering. So despite his minor passover of the apartment number, he was very interested in the smaller details.

A pair of work boots and sneakers sat next to the door, the toes of the boots scuffed and the leather well-worn. The sneakers seemed to be newer though, with only a bit of wear obvious in them.

He had no idea why that was the first thing he had focused on. His mind truly was strange. Marco led Jean through the kitchen that the entryway led into, then further past it into the hall. He pointed out doors as he went, showing Jean where the livingroom, his bedroom was, and then pointing out the bathroom between the two.

Jean took one look at the futon in Marco's livingroom and nearly gasped, looking over at Marco just after he had offered his own bed. "No way. I'll gladly take the couch futon thing," he nodded firmly, not leaving any room for argument as he went to plop down onto the couch-like piece of furniture.

"B-But-" Marco started to protest, looking over at Jean's wing worriedly. The avian was quick to shoot him down, shaking his head.

"Nope. I'm sleeping here. You can keep your bed," he said simply, letting out a pleased hum and unwrapping the blanket from around his shoulders.

Marco shoulders dipped a bit as he sighed and nodded. "Fine... I'm going to go make dinner, if you want some," he muttered, poking his lower lip out in a small pout.

Jean lit up a bit, looking over at Marco seriously. "Food?" he chirped pleasantly, his stomach grumbling it's agreement with the thought of sustenence. Surely Marco would, as well, cook real food. That thought was particular exciting for the deli-reliant young avian.

Marco nodded a bit, chuckling softly and shaking his head a bit as he turned to head back into the kitchen. Jean, however, stayed where he was, admiring the paintings that adorned the walls and the many books on a shelf in the far corner. He had no idea how long he stayed on the couch, though soon enough the smell from the kitchen tempted him out of his claimed area and into the kitchen.

Marco really seemed to know what he was doing when it came to cooking, even if he was making something as simple as hamburgers. He had even made a salad to have on the side, assumingly for Jean. Of course, he had no problems with the thought of eating meat. He only had the wings, not the appetite. Marco was sure to learn that quickly.

Soon enough the meal was finished and they both fixed up their own plates, sitting at the small table in the kitchen, and eating in respective silence, until Jean got curious.

"How old are you, anyway? I saw textbooks in the living room. Are you a student?" Jean asked curiously, raising an eyebrow up at Marco.

"I'm 21, and as you learned earlier, in veterinary school. I just volunteer at the clinic to get more experience," he hummed, meeting Jean's eyes. They fell into their silence again, Jean curious about the young man, but not sure which questions were alright to ask. Shrugging internally, the dirty blond simply figured he'd find out more about Marco in the time he spent there healing.


	2. Chapter 2

The cool metal pressed against his heated skin, the bars of the cage he was trapped in much too small for Jean's liking. He could hear talking, but it was like they were muffled. The words were impossible to make out, and the only thing he could really understand was the fact that they were speaking.

A moment passed, and then a realization hit him that sent a searing wave of pain through his system. His wings. Why couldn't he feel the pain of his broken wing? And what was that dull sting racing along his shoulder blades?

He tried to move the feathered appendages, the thought receiving no movement. Nothing. Not a twitch. There was nothing. Jean felt an icy cold horror freeze every fiber of his body. 

His wings; what were wrong with his wings? Jean nearly gasped in fear, trying to reach his hand behind him, hoping to grasp at his own brown and white feathers. Broken, even, would have been better than what he found.

Absolutely nothing. No feathers; the bandages of his broken wing wasn't even within his reach. His fingers ran over his shoulder blades, almost terrified to even try running along the mesh of skin where his wings usually melded into his shoulders. 

All he felt was the stump of part of his wing, and a few bloody feathers. They were gone. They were both gone, ripped away from his skin before he had been brought to consciousness. All that was left was the bloody remnants of his limbs. 

Jean woke with a loud gasp and a whine of pain as he sat up quickly, his broken wing aching with the movement. A thin sheen of sweat stuck parts of the shirt he had borrowed from Marco the night before to his skin. He greedily sucked in breath, surprised to look up and see Marco standing in the doorway, merely looking mildly interested in the avian. 

"Jean? Are you okay?" he asked, and the dirty blond swallowed thickly around the sudden lump in his throat. He lifted his eyes hesitantly to meet those of the man in the doorway, wide and brimming with tears. He shrugged a little, looking down again to hide the wetness in his eyes and rub at them almost childishly. 

"I... I had a bad dream," he muttered softly, hiding his face from Marco's view. He could hear him move further into the living room, delicately resting on the edge of the futon and almost awkwardly patted Jean's shoulder. 

"Hey, it's okay. It was just a dream, right? It's over now," he assured softly, though to Jean his voice just sounded cold and distant, like only half of him was even there, or even cared. 

Jean didn't like the nearly numb tone in Marco's voice, pulling away from him, both physically and emotionally. He was too distant, too cold to truly be the same aspiring veterinarian he had eaten dinner with and joked around with before. 

"Yeah, you're right. It was just a dream. I'm sorry for bothering you," he said quickly, shutting himself in mentally and putting up several layers of walls around his feelings to shut Marco out. 

Marco blinked sleepily for a few long moments, before he let out a deep breath and got up, shaking his head a tiny bit. "Sorry," he said softly, looking out towards the window, "I haven't had to deal with any of this stuff in a... long time."

Jean shook his head, wiping at his eyes a little bit. "Don't worry about it," he said softly, curling back up on the futon and wrapping himself back up in the borrowed blanket, "I'll just go back to bed. Don't worry about me, really."

"Are you sure? I can... get you water or something," Marco offered, looking back over at Jean, looking over him quickly, "I mean... if you think it may help." The dark haired young man began to slowly walk back towards the door.

"No. I'm fine, really. I'm just going to go back to sleep," Jean assured quickly, letting out a deep breath and tucking his arm under the pillow. Marco hesitated a few moments at the door, before he let out a deep sigh and nodded. 

"Alright... I'll leave you be, then. I hope you sleep better," Marco said softly, hesitating a rather long moment before he headed out of the room and headed back down the hall to his own room once more. 

It wasn't until then that Jean realized just how nice the thought of a cool glass of water sounded to him. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep well so soon after such a horrible nightmare. Letting out a deep breath, Jean waited until he heard the door of Marco's room click shut before he heaved himself up off of the futon. 

Jean slipped his way carefully down the hall to the kitchen, silently padding across the tile and grabbing a class from the counter. He filled his glass with cold water, then sipped at it, almost immediately tipping his head back to down the entire, wonderfully icy cold glass of water.

Jean gasped for breath after downing the glass, sighing happily and leaning back against the counter. He was careful of his broken wing, of course, letting it rest along his side so that it wouldn't be pressed against the counter.

He sighed softly and refilled his glass, actually sipping at it this time, deep in thought. Something about Marco had just seemed wrong. He had been far too distant for the warm, friendly young man he had spent the day with. Well, at least a majority of the day.

Had he upset his host, somehow? Or maybe it was something else entirely? Jean had absolutely no idea, and thinking so hard on this while he was still sleepy was making his head hurt. He decided then that he should probably just head back to bed, and downed the rest of his second glass of water, before he headed back towards the living room to curl up amongst the blankets he had been given to sleep under.

Jean laid back down and wrapped himself up in blankets the best he could, gently wrapping his wings around his form loosely. He was sure to be careful with his broken wing, although he enjoyed the softness, warmth, and slight protection it still offered in its current state.  
The avian fell asleep again rather quickly, the thoughts of his nightmare long gone, replaced by worries for his current caretaker.   
\--  
When Jean woke up again, the apartment was completely silent, save for the regular sounds of the building creaking or ‘settling’. Jean hummed sleepily, slowly sitting up and looking around the living room. He sat there for a few minutes in a sleepy haze, before he got up and headed towards the kitchen to make himself some breakfast.   
Something simple should be enough, seeing as he didn’t have the proper skills to make himself a real breakfast; or food in general, if he was honest with himself. The dirty blond was lucky if he could make himself a proper sandwich without accidentally cutting his fingers or setting something on fire.   
Stoves and ovens were things that were definite hazards for the avian, though he couldn’t help it. He had never really ever had to cook for himself, it had always been done for him, or he would only be given scientifically made food that was far too similar to dog food.   
He simply retrieved a pop-tart from the cupboard, before he went to search for Marco, surprised that the dark-haired young man wasn’t already awake and moving about the apartment. Jean made his way back towards Marco’s room, tapping his knuckles lightly against the door before peeking inside.   
Marco’s bed was empty, a few spare articles of clothing spread about the floor. They were likely his pajamas from the night before, since they consisted simply of a t-shirt, some pajama pants, and an undershirt.  
Jean sighed deeply and slipped back into the hallway, not noticing the slim streak of fur that darted past his ankles and almost immediately went into the bathroom. Jean checked by the door to see if Marco’s shoes were gone, though they were sitting right next to the doorframe.   
Only Marco’s dirty, mud-stained boots seemed to be missing, so Jean simply figured that the other had grown out to do errands, or get groceries. He immediately began to relax, going back into the kitchen and perching comfortably on the edge of the counter as he tore off small pieces of his pop-tart and popped them into his mouth.  
It took Jean a few long minutes before he noticed the note pinned to the front of the refrigerator by a magnet, and he stared at it for another couple of seconds before he got up and went to grab it, unfolding the sheet of paper and looking down on the rather neat handwriting written on the inside.  
Marco had simply gone to work, but he wasn’t at the veterinary office. He was at his second job. He didn’t go in to detail about it, simply saying he wouldn’t be back until about 3 in the afternoon. There was a small request to feed Marco’s cats, and when he read that, Jean blinked in confusion.   
Marco had cats? He hadn’t seen any around the apartment yet, though he had seen the two bowls in the bathroom. The avian began to wonder how he had overlooked those details so easily before.   
Jean made his way to the bathroom, and surely enough, the two bowls were still in place, and two cats peered up at him. One was incredibly fluffy, it’s fur nearly flaring out everywhere, while the other was surprisingly slim and all of its fur laid down flat. Marco’s cats were like two completely different end of a feline spectrum.  
He hummed, quickly going to fill their bowls before those strikingly yellow eyes pierced straight through him. Their stare was incredibly intense; they must have been waiting for food for a very long time. Jean could at least relate to them there, he was used to the feeling of needing to wait for his food. Stupid microwave, heating food up until it was practically scalding.  
The cats went straight to eating as soon as Jean set the food bowl down, nearly scaring him have to death. He quickly got his fingers out of the way, to keep those from being eaten, as well. Jean sighed and straightened up, smiling faintly at the cats before he turned away and went back out to the living room.  
He had been rather curious about Marco’s home, but the place was rather small, so there wasn’t much to explore. He found himself staying in the living room, looking over Marco’s collection of books. Quite a few were textbooks, for his veterinary school, Jean assumed.   
A few were more interesting. Marco seemed to have a rather wide variety of interests, with fantasy to sci-fi, mystery to horror. They all showed in his collection of various novels. Jean grabbed one book featuring a dragon on its cover, planning on curling up on the futon and reading it while he waited for Marco to come home from work.  
The avian wasn’t quite able to put the book down. He enjoyed it so much that he didn’t even realize several hours had gone by, or even that tiredness was beginning to creep up on him. He fell asleep once more with the book open on his lap, curled up on the futon with a small, sleepy smile.   
It was a little while after Jean fell asleep that Marco came home from his second job, jeans slightly dusted with dirt. The dark haired young man gently shook Jean awake, looking down at him in a bit of a confusion. 

“Jean? Jean, you didn’t sleep all day, did you?” Marco asked, looking down at Jean as the avian slowly blinked his eyes open, looking up at Marco in confusion. 

“Huh?” he rubbed at his eyes, slowly sitting up. The book on his lap flipped closed, startling the sleepy avian. His good wing puffed up a bit, almost as if he was really afraid it might have been a threat. 

Marco couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, nodding a little and gently smoothing down Jean’s feathers to try and calm him. That just made him tense even more, that gentle feeling of fingers gliding over his feathers. It sent a small shiver racing down his spine. Jean quickly pushed away Marco’s hand, shaking his head. 

“Don’t touch them, they’re extremely sensitive,” he whispered, cheeks flushing a light pink. Marco quickly understood, nodding and sitting on the futon next to where Jean’s legs had claimed their space. 

“Do you want to watch a movie tonight?” Marco offered briefly, completely changing the topic of conversation, “I have a bunch of movies, and I figured we could just relax a bit this evening.”

Jean thought that proposal over for a few moments, before he nodded a tiny bit, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them with a practiced flexibility.   
“Sounds fun,” the avian said softly, humming a small, mindless tune as he readjusted himself on the futon to give Marco more room to sit. He himself hadn’t yet even considered the television as a way to entertain himself. It was mostly because he was sure it would take way too long for him to figure out its controls. 

Marco smiled faintly and nodded, grabbing the remote and turning the device on. “I was thinking maybe something like Mirrors? It’s an old horror movie. Well not really old, it was made in the last ten years,” Marco started to ramble a bit, so Jean quickly stopped that, raising his hand and nodding a bit.

“You don’t need to explain it to me. Let’s watch it,” he grinned lazily, unable to help but laugh softly. Marco was kind of cute when he was rambling. No. Stop that train of thought right there. He was not going to start crushing on the young man he had just met within the last few days.

The movie itself was rather strange. Jean couldn’t really follow it that well, though the beginning made him cringe. He could only wonder if a ridiculous amount of blood was a good way to start a horror movie.

After the intro, Jean was nearly completely lost, and instead went to studying his fingernails, or the fibers of his flannel pajama pants. He did everything he possibly could not to focus on Marco himself. That was just bound to lead to him unintentionally staring at the (rather attractive) man.

It worked, at first. He picked at his borrowed pajama pants until there wasn’t a single stray fiber or piece of string clinging to the fabric covering his thighs or knees. He stayed tense, almost hyper aware of Marco’s presence next to his. His leg started bouncing halfway through the film, and after about five minutes of that, Marco gently rested his hand over Jean’s knee, stopping the motion almost immediately. 

“Calm down,” he whispered softly, his thumb rubbing small circles over Jean’s knee. The avian tensed, letting out a shaky breath. They stayed like that throughout the rest of the movie, with Jean nervously trying not to make it seem too obvious how shaky he was. 

The movie soon ended, and Marco got up to go make them dinner, gently patting Jean’s knee again before he got up and headed out to the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, Marco came back out with a few quesadillas, making Jean’s mouth water just at the sight of them. 

They ate in a surprisingly comfortable silence, both humming contently as they enjoyed their food. Jean savored ever bite, definitely loving the taste of the chicken and melted cheese. It was delicious, and Jean would have told Marco so himself, if his mouth hadn’t been so full of food.

About ten minutes after they had finished eating, Marco got up and went to go clean up. It seemed that right after he left the room, someone knocked at the front door. Jean blinked, looking towards the door that Marco had just left through. 

“Should I get that?” Jean called out, worried mostly just about his wings being seen. Marco seemed to take a minute to think about that, before he responded. 

“Yeah, go ahead, Jean. It should just be Armin, he was going to come over tonight. I think he said something about bringing his kitten over,” he called back out in response. 

Jean nodded, getting up and going to answer the door. The blond standing outside with a cat carrier sitting on the floor next to him looked surprised to see Jean at all, blinking at him in surprise. “O-Oh, I didn’t realize Marco had someone over, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, starting to pick up the carrier. A soft mewl sounded from inside, drawing Jean’s attention.

“Oh, no. No, it’s not like that! He’s just taking care of me while I heal, since I don’t live with anyone,” he said quickly, looking down towards the carrier curiously. “Come in, please. Marco knows you’re here,” he smiled faintly at Armin, stepping back to let the blond into the apartment. Armin followed Jean inside, looking over his wings admiringly. “Wow,” he whispered softly, his eyes taking in the brown and white marks speckling Jean’s wings. 

Jean could feel the blond’s eyes on his wings, flushing lightly and nodding a bit. “I’ll go get Marco, if you just want to wait in the living room,” he said simply, going into the kitchen both to get Marco and to avoid Armin’s admiring gaze. 

“He’s in the living room,” Jean hummed softly, watching as Marco nodded, then wiped his hands off on a dish towel. Marco turned to Jean with a small smile, heading past him and out into the living room. 

Jean nearly melted at that small, sweet smile. It had just felt so soft and intimate to him. The avian felt his cheeks heat up in a light flush, though he tried to force it down. He really needed to stop thinking about this all. Marco was just a friend, if he even was that yet. 

Jean made his way out to the living room himself, nearly tripping over a small grey kitten as he stepped into the room. The small animal looked up at him and mewled softly, and Jean was quick to crouch down and gently run his hand over the kitten’s fur, cooing softly.

“I got her after my other cat passed away,” Armin said softly, getting Jean’s attention rather suddenly, “I named her Mari.”

Marco seemed to tense at the name, his face going dark and blank for a brief moment before a forced smile tugged at his lips. It just looked wrong, completely unnatural on the usually happy man’s face. 

“She’s adorable,” Jean said softly, smiling softly and holding the kitten against his chest. She purred happily, nuzzling against Jean’s cheek. 

“I thought Marco would like it if I named her after his little sister, since she used to love playing with my other cat.” Marco nodded a little, the forced smile slipping from his face then, and Jean could truly see his sadness; years and years of it.

What had happened to his sister?


	3. Chapter 3

Jean was happy to find that Marco didn’t work on Saturdays, most weekends. There were an occasional few where he got called into the veterinary clinic, or had to go to work, for some weird reason. Today wasn’t one of those days though.

Jean woke up with a yawn, stretching his arms out and feeling his wings twitch a bit with the movement. He had slept rather peacefully, and he was sure it showed. Jean sleepily ran a hand through his hair, scrunching his nose up a bit at how greasy it felt. He would have to shower sometime soon. 

Surely enough, the second Jean padded into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water, Marco remarked on the appearance of the avian. 

“Nice bed head,” he chuckled softly, gathering various things; a pan made its way onto the stove, eggs resting on the counter next to it. “Want to help me make breakfast?” Marco asked, ignoring Jean’s muttering that he should shut up.

Jean shrugged a little, not sure how useful he could even be. “I don’t know how to cook eggs,” he said simply, a bit embarrassed by that. What 20 year-old didn’t know how to make his own food? Jean, Jean didn’t know how to make his own food, unless it was microwaved or from a deli.

“You don’t know how to cook eggs?” Marco asked, his eyes widening as he mocked horror, “Well that’s it. You have to help now. I’m going to teach you how to make eggs,” he announced proudly, puffing out his chest a bit.

Jean snorted a little bit, nodding and letting out a hum as he carefully hopped up onto the counter to perch there and watch Marco. 

“Oh no, there’s no way you’re getting out of this one,” Marco said quickly, rushing over to Jean to grab his hands and tug him forward off of the counter. “Get a mug, so we can mix everything together. I’ll get the ham and cheese out of the fridge. Do you want some in your eggs, too?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Jean as he opened the refrigerator. 

Jean shrugged a little, nodding after a few seconds. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said softly, looking around the kitchen in confusion for a few long moments, before he remembered what cupboard the cups were in. 

He grabbed a mug from the top shelf, having to push himself up onto his toes a bit. Why was that shelf so high up, anyway? Jean knew he really wasn’t that short. Marco showed him how to crack the eggs into the cup, and the first time Jean tried himself, the egg nearly exploded in his hands. 

It may as well have simply exploded, for the mess it made. Marco sighed softly, getting a washcloth to try and help Jean get some of the egg off of the shirt he had borrowed from Marco. 

“Well… now we have a good reason to go get some of your own clothes today. I’ll go get them after breakfast,” he hummed softly, managing to clean up most of the egg, though Jean still felt as though the shirt was now sticking to his skin. So gross.

They laughed and joked as they made breakfast, Marco carefully standing behind Jean and helping guide his hand to show him how to scramble the eggs. Jean flushed when he felt Marco behind him, so very close to him. 

“Did you have to do this for your sister too, Marco?” Jean asked innocently, surprised to see the bright smile immediately drop from Marco’s face. He blinked for a few brief seconds, before he seemed to simply shut down, a heavy wall dropping down between the closeness they had just been sharing.

Shit. Jean quickly backpedaled, trying to get back the Marco he had just been happily cooking breakfast with. “I mean- I didn’t mean to upset you, Marco. I’m sorry,” he said softly, reaching out to touch the other’s arm, though he pulled away from Jean’s outstretched hand. 

“Don’t. Don’t worry about it. I’ll just go get your things now. Don’t worry about waiting for me to start eating,” he said almost coldly, turning away from Jean and heading for the door. Jean felt himself nearly deflate, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore. He finished cooking the eggs, regardless, dropping them onto a plate and simply setting it on the counter.

The avian went and sat in the living room, curling up on the futon and wrapping his arms around his abdomen. He had upset Marco, and for some reason, that realization, and the look that had been on the young man’s face set guilt to eating him apart. 

He laid there for a while, not sure how long though since he avoided looking at the clock. They had been having such a good morning, and then Jean had gone and ruined it. After a short while of self-loathing, Jean heard a knock at the apartment door. He got up and went to answer it, surprised to see the brunette from the veterinary clinic there. 

“Oh, you’re here,” he said simply, looking a little confused. “Where’s Marco? I came by to see how he was doing, but his car is gone.”

Jean hesitated, biting at his lower lip a little bit. “Marco went to go get some of my stuff from my house… Why? Why would you need to come check on him?” the dirty blond asked in confusion, raising an eyebrow at the brunette, who seemed a bit worried when he heard Jean’s words. 

“Maybe he’s going to the cemetary alone this year,” he said thoughtfully, tapping his chin in thought. Jean blinked in confusion, tilting his head a bit.

“Why would he go to one of those today?” he questioned, not quite understanding why Marco would want to go to a graveyard on a day like today. It was his day off, wouldn’t he want to spend it at home? 

Jean internally hoped Marco would want to spend all of his days off with him. He quickly cut that thought off, pushing it down and away from the forefront of his mind. Now was not the time for thoughts like that. 

“You don’t know yet?” Eren was the one to look confused then, raising an eyebrow curiously, “Five years ago, his little sister died, and then the year after that, his mother. He never told you any of this?”

Jean froze at Eren’s words, the weight of those words like a slap in the face. “His sister… she’s dead?” he asked quietly, feeling rather dazed, “I didn’t know. I mean, he did get really quiet when I asked him about her, because Armin stopped by last night.”

Eren seemed interested in the news of the short blond, perking up in slight interest. “Armin was here? Why did that make you wonder about Marco’s little sister?” 

Jean hesitated a few moments, picking at the hem of his shirt. “Armin got a new kitten, and named her Mari, after Marco’s little sister, he said. Marco got really tense, and looked sad. So I thought I would ask him about it this morning.”

Eren let out a deep breath, shaking his head a little bit. “Armin must have forgotten what today was,” he said softly, “You may want to go check and see if Marco’s at the graveyard, because it’s already starting to get late, and I haven’t heard from him at all. He’s not answering his phone.”

Jean nodded a little bit. “I don’t… have a way to get out there,” he said softly. He had a light idea of where the cemetery was, but he had never had a reason to go there before. He couldn’t just fly, damn his broken wing. 

Eren nodded, rubbing at his forehead in clear frustration. “I’ll give you a ride there, if you want. We wouldn’t want you to ruin your wing any more than it already is,” he said softly, “Go get dressed real quick, so that you don’t freeze outside.”

Jean really didn’t want to feel grateful for the offer. He almost wished that he could dislike the brunette man before him just for the simple fact that he knew more about Marco than he did. That would be just strange, though. He had no real reason to want to know all about his current host other than his slight attraction to the man.

Letting out a deep breath, Jean went to the living room to look through the bag of old clothing that Marco had offered him. Most of the things inside were clearly too small for the young man, yet somehow fit Jean perfectly, with some adjustments made to better suit his wings.

Jean managed to find a loose t-shirt that he actually liked, tugging on a pair of sweatpants as well, and grabbing a blanket to wrap around himself to hide his wings from being horribly obvious. He went back to Eren, who was nice enough to wait at the door, and followed him out of the apartment building, down to the brunette’s car. The drive to the graveyard was an awkward one, Jean curled up in the backseat of Eren’s car, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He looked through the window as they approached the large cemetery in the city, searching for any sign of his dark-haired host. 

The brunette drove through the cemetery slowly, making his way through the almost park-like area as well as he could. Jean could have sworn he had seen Marco at one point, though it turned out to simply be a statue that was placed in the cemetery. 

The angel and the man taking care of him looked awfully similar, in Jean’s defense. Eventually they reached the top of the hill that the graveyard was built on, with a much denser area of trees, and many more bushes. 

“He should be in there… That’s where his mother and sister are buried,” Eren said softly, turning the car off, “It’s unlikely anyone will see you up here. Just go get Marco so we can get him home safely. I’ll wait here to… give you guys a little privacy,” the brunette hummed, leaning back in his seat and watching as Jean got up out of the car. 

He left his blanket in the backseat, slowly stepping through the small passageway between two large trees, into a smaller clearing like area of grass and small wildflowers. He was almost surprised to see Marco, looking horribly heartbroken.

The man seemed to have fallen to his knees in front of the smaller of the two graves, simply staring at the engraving on the stone with tears slowly streaking down his cheeks. Somehow it was worse than real sobs, the sight of those tears and the pain in Marco’s face making Jean’s heart clench in his chest, aching for the other man.

Jean let out a deep breath, going to Marco’s side and gently kneeling next to him, resting a hand on one of his shoulders and leaning against the one closer to him. “Will you tell me about her?” he asked softly, almost afraid to break the silence of Marco’s tears.

He shrugged his shoulders a tiny bit, one of his hands coming up to rest over Jean’s on his shoulder. Marco’s hands were cold, and held the slightest bit of a tremble to them.

“…Not right now. Maybe someday, but I… I don’t think I can right now,” he nearly breathed, resting the side of his head atop Jean’s and closing his eyes. The avian could feel Marco’s tears wetting his hair, and he gently grabbed Marco’s other hand, intertwining their fingers and gently rubbing his thumb along the back of Marco’s hand. 

“Okay. I understand,” Jean whispered softly, nodding his head a tiny bit, “Let’s go home, okay, Marco? Let’s go home, and watch a dumb movie or something so you can be happy again,” he said softly, carefully getting back up to his feet and holding his hand out to Marco. 

The other looked up at him in confusion for a few brief moments, before he nodded a tiny bit, taking Jean’s help, and the offered help in getting up. It was a little difficult though, so as Jean was so used to using his wings to balance himself. He nearly fell over on top of Marco in a simple attempt to help him up. But at least his wings weren’t hurting as much as they had been the day before.

The pair carefully made their way back to Eren’s car, both of them getting into the backseat of the vehicle. Jean sat up straight this time, wrapping the blanket back around his shoulders. Marco laid out across the back seat, his head resting in Jean’s lap. The avian slowly ran his fingers through the dark brown locks gently. Marco let out a soft hum, leaning into Jean’s touch.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you both worry,” he muttered softly, closing his eyes with a deep sigh. Jean snorted just a little, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it… We found you. I’m just glad we were able to do that much.” Jean said softly, continuing to work his fingers through Marco’s hair, enjoying the softness of the strands. Marco hummed under the touch, almost seeming to lean into Jean’s touch.

It was kind of cute, really. Normally, Marco was a rather intimidating man, mostly just because he was so large. He had broad shoulders and was just a bit taller than Jean, so that almost immediately made him a bit frightening to the winged young man. 

It only took about ten minutes to drive back to Marco’s house, the dark-haired young man nearly falling asleep with his head on Jean’s lap. When Eren pulled up into the parking lot of the apartment building, Jean pulled his hand back from Marco’s hair, tugging the blanket tighter around his shoulders. 

Marco let out a small whine, immediately complaining at the loss of the touch. Jean couldn’t help but smile softly, gently pushing a bit of Marco’s bangs back. “We’re home, Marco. Come on, let’s go inside,” he said softly.

“Okay,” he muttered, humming almost sleepily and sitting up. With a small yawn, he stretched out, before getting out of the car, and waiting for Jean to get out as well before they began to make their way back to Marco’s apartment. 

It wasn’t until they had gotten back inside that Marco spoke again, his voice soft and a tiny bit sheepish. “I forgot to get your clothing,” he said softly, rubbing at the back of his neck. Jean shrugged a tiny bit, shaking his head. 

“Don’t worry about it. We can get my things some other time,” he reassured, reaching over to touch Marco’s shoulder, “Is there anything I can do to help you feel a bit better?” he asked softly.

Marco shrugged a tiny bit, heading into the kitchen and going to open one of the cupboards. “Do you want anything to drink?” he asked softly, pulling out a bottle of alcohol as well as grabbing a small glass, and a regular cup. 

Jean shook his head a little, watching Marco in confusion as he poured some of the alcohol into the small shot glass, pouring it into his larger glass. He hummed and went to get the iced tea from the fridge, filling his cup the rest of the way.

The avian really wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that Marco was drinking. This was completely new to him, and who knew how the other would get with alcohol in his system. Jean sighed and went to go sit in the living room.

He gladly curled up on the futon he had commandeered, sitting up on it and pulling his legs close to himself. Marco joined him a few minutes later, settling on the other end of the currently couch-like futon. Jean had pulled it up back into its couch-like position the day before, for the simple goal of watching movies with Marco comfortably as well as Armin’s visit.

It wasn’t long before Jean found out what Marco was like drunk. Several drink refills later and he was swaying a bit as he stood to go get some water. He nearly made it out of the living room before he accidentally bumped into the wall. He seemed confused for a brief moment, before he simply leaned against the wall and slid down along its length.

He looked so tired. There were dark bags under his eyes, currently cast down towards the sky. His usual bright smile was replaced with the thin glass emotionlessness of a window pane, seeming hard and reserved, but fragile enough to break if you pushed too hard.

It was almost heartbreaking to see his host that way, looking so hurt and broken. Jean slowly got up and went to help Marco back up, guiding him back to the couch. 

“Just sit,” he whispered softly, gently brushing Marco’s bangs out of his forehead and leaning down to lightly kiss the top of Marco’s head. He hardly even thought about the press of his lips to the dark locks of hair, the action seeming almost instinctive. 

He wanted Marco to be happy. He wanted to take care of the usually cheery veterinarian in training, and to make him smile. Strangely, he found himself longing to be the only one Marco smiled so intimately at, as if he could see through every little layer of his exterior, and was simply speaking to the pure element of him.

Jean found his face flushing at the thought, shaking that away. “Hey, what’s got you all upset?” he asked delicately, sitting down next to Marco and letting their shoulders press together lightly, though he didn’t do much more than that.

Marco shrugged a little bit, his shoulders stiffening. Jean could feel each little flaw in his armor though, his softer spots, where if Jean prodded just right, he could get a bit more information. 

“Marco? Tell me about your childhood,” he nearly breathed, looking over at his current companion. Marco seemed a bit surprised by the change of topic, but gladly went along with it, not noticing Jean’s ulterior motive in asking.

“We,” he began, letting out a deep breath and leaning against Jean’s shoulder. “I’d say I had a good enough childhood. I grew up in a smaller neighborhood, so I knew all the nearby kids rather well. We all grew up together, so we tolerated each other well enough.”

He paused, tensing a bit. “It was in high school when things changed from that… Marianna, my little sister, died and I pushed everyone away. I mourned. I became that kid that no one wanted to be around,” Marco whispered, “It got worse when m-my mother killed herself,” he breathed, his voice cracking with the effort of holding back tears.

Jean couldn’t do much but blink at Marco with wide eyes, gently moving to curl against Marco’s side and wrap his arms around the other’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Marco,” he whispered softly, closing his eyes and gently nuzzling Marco’s shoulder. The dark-haired young man seemed to slowly relax, before he nodded a little and gently resting his hand over Jean’s. 

“It’s stupid anyway, really. You don’t have to pretend like I’m not pathetic… I already know I am… I had three years of dealing with my father before he kicked me out and I didn’t have to deal with him being drunk all of the time,” Marco whispered, and it was then that I noticed the faint scars along Marco’s wrists.

The faint white lines were almost like a spider web skittering across his tanned skin, showing where his icy sheen had cracked when there was too much pressure on him. It was beautiful, in an odd, horrifying sort of way.

It was like seeing the forest at night, lit up by the brightness of the moon. Marco was the sea, and these lines were the grains of his pummeled past, settling on the sand in pale, rounded pieces of shattered glass. 

Jean felt as though suddenly one of those waves had washed over him, filling that gap between them with a rushing current. 

“Marco,” he gasped out softly, reaching to grab Marco’s wrist carefully. He couldn’t help himself, lifting Marco’s wrist to his lips and ignoring the other’s protests as he pressed his lips lightly against those scars.

Jean almost felt as if that had truly unlocked those doors into Marco; deeper into his past. He could feel the tremor in Marco’s body, the way his eyes shifted as he tried to look anywhere but at Jean himself.

“You aren’t pathetic,” Jean whispered softly, his voice a soft ghost of a breath fanning over Marco’s wrist, “You’re the strongest person I know, if you’ve managed to make it through this long.”

Marco began to protest to Jean’s claims, but the avian simply shook his head, closing his eyes and tugging Marco’s head to rest their foreheads together. It was a peaceful moment, hardly broken by the other’s soft cries. 

It was all intimate. Oh, so intimate, and Jean was lapping up every second of it he could get.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun Dun Duuun. You finally hear from the writer. I just thought I should give you a warning for this chapter. It has its cute moments, but this one is going to be just a bit heavy. Jean shows a bit of anxiety and depression in this one, so this chapter may be a bit triggering to some. I hope you enjoy it, anyway. I promise this little sadness doesn’t last too long.

Jean woke sometime in the middle of the night, his wing aching with soreness and small stings of pain. He gasped softly and slowly got up, making his way into the kitchen to grab some of the painkillers Marco had left out for him the night before.

He downed the pills with a glass of water, before he quickly rinsed out his glass and set it down next to the sink. He sighed and looked around the kitchen for a long moment, feeling like getting something, though he couldn’t decide what. He remembered Marco once making him this warm drink that had been really delicious, and found himself wondering if perhaps he could make that drink for himself somehow.

He searched the drawers for a few moments, before he found one full of various boxes all labeled with varying flavors of tea. Jean grabbed the peppermint tea box, pulling one of the individually wrapped tea bags out of the box and setting it back in the drawer.

Jean sighed deeply and set to work making himself the tea, heading back into the living room once he had managed to finish making himself his drink. Taking a sip of it and deciding it was incredibly pepperminty, he made his way through the hallway with careful steps.

His wings stayed tucked close to his body, even as he cupped the mug of tea he had somehow, miraculously, managed to make for himself, and went to stand at the large window in the living room. Jean hummed and stared out at the night sky.

It was an ink spill over canvas, shining flecks of white dappling the stained material. The moon shone bright in the sky, lighting up the streets and trees below. It was truly beautiful, and the sight of the clear, empty sky made Jean’s working wing twitch in irritation.

How he longed to feel the wind in his feathers; the pleasant ruffle of the sky’s intimate caress.

He heard Marco’s footsteps pass by and into the kitchen, and then the clink of a glass and the tap running. There was a few moments of quiet before Marco’s footsteps came back down the hallway.

The footsteps paused at the door, before Jean felt Marco’s presence get closer, and the dark haired young man stepped up next to him in his peripheral vision.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Jean asked, glancing to the side to look over at Marco. He nodded a tiny bit, letting out a deep breath and turning his back to the window. He leaned against the wall space next to it, tipping his head back a tiny bit to rest against the pale blue of the wall.

“Yeah,” Marco said softly, humming and closing his eyes, “I was able to sleep for a little while, but that may have just been the alcohol,” he nearly whispered, and Jean had to strain to hear his faint words.

“Oh,” Jean let out a small breath, nodding his head and turning a bit to look at Marco, “Are you sure you’re alright? You should probably get some sleep,” he said softly, giving the slightly older man a worried look.

Marco shrugged, returning the look with a rather sheepish, apologetic one of his own. “I’ll be okay. I’m sorry, though. I didn’t mean to drink that much last night, and I apologize if I said anything weird or… Y’know, anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

Jean shook his head quickly, unable to help but trail his eyes along the strong curve of Marco’s jaw, accentuated by the moonlight filtering through the window.

“No, don’t worry about it,” Jean said quickly, more distracted by the way the light lit up certain parts of Marco’s face, but shadowed others. It made his face seem much sharper, its usual roundness appearing much more defined in nature.

He was attractive, truly. Jean couldn’t lie about that. Marco, with his broad shoulders and kind eyes. Those freckles that seemed to speckle his face, neck, and shoulders. Jean longed to see where they ended, suddenly. If they even ended at all.

He could feel his mouth nearly water at the thought, a light flush rising to warm his cheeks. The avian quickly turned away to hide his blush, going back over to the futon to curl up among his blankets, hiding in them and simply peeking out at Marco again.

One of Marco’s cats suddenly deemed him fit for interaction, hopping up onto the futon and curling up along Jean’s side. Jean gently scratched behind the animal’s ear, smiling faintly at the purring sound he could hear rumbling in the cat’s throat, slightly older than a kitten.

“I think I’m going to go back to bed,” he whispered, trying to push those thoughts out of his head. Marco seemed to be in a daze, staring at him for a few long moments before he slowly nodded his head, humming softly and taking Jean’s now empty mug.

“Alright. Sleep well, Jean,” he said softly, gently brushing the other’s bangs back and smiling at him. Jean closed his eyes and relaxed at Marco’s touch, the other man leaving the room after a few moments of still standing there.

Jean smiled, nuzzling his face into the pillow he had borrowed, his nose filling with the faint smell of Marco’s shampoo from the pillow, and the faint feeling of Marco’s touch lingering on his brow. He fell asleep rather quickly after that, feeling much more calm and safe than he had felt before.

When Jean woke up again, the long-haired cat had disappeared, leaving nothing but loose cat hairs in its place. The dirty blond couldn’t help but yawn, sitting up with a small groan and rubbing at his eyes.

He got up, slowly making his way into the kitchen to see if Marco was already awake, making breakfast. He wasn’t sure if he should be hurt or not; Jean really enjoyed cooking with Marco, for more than just the simple fact that it helped him learn how to cook for himself.

Marco wasn’t there, nor was he in his room when he checked in there. A bit panicked, Jean went to check for Marco’s shoes, trying to tell himself that Marco had simply had class, or that the man had been called into the clinic.

His usual shoes were still there, though the dirt-worn work boots were gone. Jean’s panic grew, and he looked around for anything he could use to try and contact anyone. He found the house phone settled in the crook of space between the refrigerator and the kitchen sink.

There was a notepad next to the phone, several numbers written down. Jean would have thought that Marco had actually wrote out a list of phone numbers for him, but they seemed much too disorganized for the dark-haired young man’s usual organizational habits.

Even the books in his living room were organized alphabetically. Jean had almost thought it weird at first, though he knew it really wasn’t that big of a deal. Jean probably would have done the same thing if he wasn’t usually so lazy.

The only number that even vaguely was useful. Apparently Armin had gotten a new phone lately, and so Marco had jotted the number down on his little legal pad. Jean grabbed the phone, carefully pressing the numbers on the phone to dial Armin’s number.

A few rings later and the other’s soft voice came through the receiver, sounding rather confused. “Marco? Don’t you have work today?” he asked, but Jean quickly shook his head, forgetting Armin couldn’t see him.

“No no, It’s Jean. Um… Is Marco working today? I woke up and he was gone and I don’t know where he is,” the avian nearly blurted out, realizing how silly he sounded as soon as the words left his lips.

“Oh. Yeah, He’s supposed to be working at his second job today. He didn’t tell you?” Armin said simply, his words calming the panic that had risen in Jean’s chest.

“No, I had no idea,” he admitted, a wave of shame washing over him. Jean let out a deep breath, resting his forehead against the wall.

“Yeah… He has two jobs, to help him take care of his apartment, and his cats. He cares for other people so much before he even begins to care about himself,” Armin said softly, not seeming to notice Jean’s hitch in breath at these words.

“How long has he been working two jobs, Armin?” he asked softly, suddenly realizing how much of a burden he must be to the other man.

“Since he was about seventeen, I believe. Why, is everything okay, Jean?” Armin asked, actually sounding worried for the avian. Jean felt his eyes sting with the threat of tears. Had Marco been suffering this entire time, just because he was working two jobs to pay for himself, and now Jean, as well?

“I-“ Jean paused, shaking his head and biting at his lip to hold back his tears. He was not going to cry now, dammit, “I’m going home, Armin. If Marco comes home later and calls you, will you tell him that?” he said softly, before he hung up, feeling absolutely done with just himself.

The avian rubbed at his eyes, trying to get rid of the wetness in them. He went into the living room to quickly change into a new pair of clothing, nabbing a long sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans that had to be hung low on his hips. He grabbed one of the larger t-shirts, as well, before he headed out of the apartment building, and into the forest that lie behind it.

Obviously he couldn’t just walk straight through town to get to his old, abandoned little home on the other side. He could, however, work his way around the town. He headed deep into the woods, until he was sure no one would be able to find him, even if they were searching. Jean sighed, leaning back against the trunk of a large tree and letting out a deep sigh.

It wasn’t until it began to get dark rather quickly that Jean decided he was going to stay in the woods for at least tonight. He climbed up into the tree and settled amongst its branches, curling up into a slight ball and tugging the t-shirt over his head.

Jean soon fell asleep like that, already worn from his trek into the trees, as well as his attempts to climb into the branches of one with his wing still broken. Every movement had tugged at the muscles and made him yelp slightly in pain, though he didn’t stop. If he slept on the ground, who knew what would find him?

Jean woke sometime early the next morning, shivers wracking his lanky form. His teeth practically chattered with the chill. It was clearly early, if the vivid red and orange hues being painted across the sky by the rising sun were any cue.

The avian considered returning to Marco’s home, where it would be warm, and he knew Marco would make him something delicious for breakfast. The thought made his stomach give a reproachful growl, cursing him for leaving the man who cooked so deliciously.

Jean felt tears stinging at his eyes, and he shook his head, trying to push away all thoughts of the attractive young man he had been staying with. He had enough things to worry about, without him there. He had enough problems without needing to worry about some broken-winged mess like him.

He didn’t even know how to cook for himself, how could he have expected to be of any help to Marco? He was useless; unnecessary. This thought is what finally drove those tears from Jean’s eyes, dripping down along his pale face.

“Oh come on,” he sniffled, wiping at his eyes and trying to fight back the tears, “I can’t cry. I can’t cry over him. This is so stupid,” he breathed, a slight whimper edging his voice and causing his words to crack just slightly.

Jean couldn’t help the small sob that ripped itself from his lips. He curled up further, trying his best to wrap his wings around himself to at least try and gain some heat from them. He simply cried for a short while, confused by the aching in his chest, and his sudden longing to go back and curl up in Marco’s arms.

He somehow managed to cry himself to sleep, slightly regaining his warmth from shivering, and from wrapping his wings around himself the best he could. He slept until it was truly morning, before he decided he may as well venture out and see if he could get himself something to eat. Surely the shirt and jeans were baggy enough for him to find some way to hide his wings.

Jean eventually managed to stuff his broken wing down the back of his shirt, along the side of his pants so that it would irritate it too much, then did the same with his good wing. He was sure he must have looked at least a little bit silly, but with hunger on the forefront of his mind, he waved his worries away and began to make his back in the direction of Marco’s apartment.

He soon caught sight of the building again, slipping alongside it to go by. He was walking through the parking lot when he noticed something, though. On top of Marco’s car, the blanket was sitting there, a sealed envelope resting atop its surface.

Jean slowly slinked over to the vehicle, curiousity filling him like small laps of the waves against the sand of a beach. His name was written across the front of the envelope in a messy scrawl, one he recognized as Marco’s handwriting.

The avian hesitated before he picked up the blanket and the letter, shoving the envelope into his back pocket and wrapping the blanket about his shoulders. It helped to disguise his wings, and Jean was definitely grateful for the bit of warmth that it provided.

The blanket smelled like Marco, as well, Jean realized with a small, pleasant shiver. He flushed and shook his head, hurrying onto his goal of gathering food from the local grocery store’s deli. Food was needed now, dealing with his feelings for Marco could wait until later. If that’s even what they were.

Jean walked along back streets and stayed out of general view of the public, yawning occasionally and rubbing at his eyes sleepily. He probably looked like a homeless person at the moment, though it did seem that until he could go back to his own home, he really was homeless.

The dirty blond slipped into the store and made his way to the deli quickly, glancing around to see if anyone was nearby before he went over to grab some food. Just a few sandwiches, a small pack of powdered donuts; just enough to get him through the day. Though, if he was planning on staying another night in the forest.

He grabbed a couple more sandwiches, then made his way through the store to grab an energy drink or two. He somehow managed to slip back out of the store without being seen, though as he was walking away he heard a sharp gasp.

“Jean!? What the hell are you doing out here!? Marco’s been looking everywhere for you!” He heard a voice call out behind him. Eren. Cursing under his breath, Jean picked up his pace. Eren managed to catch up to him, though, grasping his shoulder and forcing him to either turn to face him, or risk losing the blankets hiding a majority of his wings.

“Hey! Listen to me, dipshit! Marco’s worried about you,” he nearly hissed, green eyes narrowing at Jean. The Avian barely even registered his words, shaking his head. Why would Marco be worried, or bother looking for him? Even gone, he was being a bother to Marco.

“Tell him to stop looking. I can’t be there anymore. I can’t stand being so useless to him!” he snapped, pulling his arm out of Eren’s grasp and turning on his heel to continue to flee, trying to return to his hiding place.

Eren seemed to be in shock at those words, and Jean could hear his intake of breath as he began to say something else, but before he could, Jean took off in a dead sprint, running back towards the forest, and deep into the trees. There was no way he hadn’t left Eren behind.

Jean stayed out in that forest for a few more days, slipping between different grocery stores or gas stations to feed himself, and the large tree he had come to call home. Three days after he had run into Eren, and gotten the letter from Marco, he finally decided to try and read the envelope’s contents.

The second he opened it, a silver key fell out into his palm, one that he assumed was a key to Marco’s apartment. Blinking in surprise, he then tugged out the folded piece of paper within the envelope, unfolding it and reading over its words carefully. Marco had apologized, simply for leaving him alone. The last part was what really caught his attention, the words bringing a deep flush to his cheeks.

_Jean,_

_I really don’t understand why you left. And I’m not too sure if I even understand myself why it’s bothering me so much. I just miss you. I miss your presence even being here. I’m so used to you being here, now, and it just all seems so empty._

_I came home to an empty apartment for the first time in a few weeks, and it was just horribly empty and lonely without you there. I… God, I feel like an idiot writing all of this down. I probably sound weird and creepy to you._

_I’m sorry, I just… I don’t know, I think I’m falling in love with you, Jean._

_I don’t know if you could tell, that for the last few days I’ve been… perhaps a bit too close to you. I’m sorry, Jean. Please, come back, I didn’t mean to start liking you, I really didn’t. You just… You make me feel like I can be myself and I… I don’t know what to do with that yet. Please, come home… I’m worried about you… And whether you’re eating enough, if you’re cold. Maybe you’ve managed to make it back to your home. But… I miss you, I really do, Jean._

_Please consider coming back to me. -Marco_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for random mild smut. This was not planned. I was talked into it. I’m so sorry.

Jean woke up cold again. That was one of the first few things he noticed when he woke up. He wrapped his blanket tighter around himself, shivering and bringing it taut across his form. It caused a dull ache to shoot through his broken wing, though the pain was reduced greatly simply by the fact that the muscles of his wing were numb with the cold. He began to wonder how Marco was doing. Had he really meant all of the things that he had said in that letter?

Had… Marco really meant it when he said that he missed him? The thought sent a pleasant warmth radiating in his core. Marco missed him; cared about him. The thought stuck with him as he ate his previously stolen deli meal. It sent his stomach fluttering with butterflies, the feelings sending shivers along his spine, from more than just the cold around him. He spent a long time thinking on all of these facts, and the things that Marco had said in that letter to him. 

Letting out a deep sigh, Jean finally making his decision and sitting up in his current perch among the branches of the thick tree. He carefully clambered down from his temporary shelter, slowly walking back through the trees and back towards Marco’s apartment building. He could visit Marco at least, right? He did miss the other man; that was easy for him to admit. Whether he returned the other man’s feelings or not though, that was a different story he didn’t quite know how to explain yet.

He knew that there was something there. He could tell by the fluttering in his gut, and the nervousness making his head feel like it was swimming. It didn’t hurt, not really, it was just weird. They were strange feelings, adding in the slight lump in his throat and ache in his chest that seemed to grow with each step towards Marco’s apartment building. He managed to get there just fine, letting out a deep breath and knocking at the door lightly.

He waited there for a few long moments to see if Marco would come to the door. When he didn’t, Jean felt as though his heart had dropped into his gut. He wasn’t answering the door. Maybe he had to work today? Jean hadn’t quite memorized Marco’s working schedule yet, not that he’d had much time to remember what days Marco had needed to be at work. Jean didn’t even know what day it was now.

Curiously, Jean tried to twist the doorknob, surprised when it actually turned in his hand, and the door swung inwards. The avian cautiously made his way inside, his nose scrunching up in slight disgust when he realized how dirty Marco’s apartment had managed to get within the few days he was gone.

Dishes were piled up by the sink in the kitchen, and it was clear that no one had bothered to straighten up the place over the last few days. Jean found himself scrunching his nose up in slight disgust, unable to keep himself from going over to the sink and washing the dishes.

He spent a good few hours cleaning Marco’s apartment, washing the dishes and cleaning everything up. He managed to get some of the laundry started as well, feeling rather happy with himself once he realized just  how long he had spent cleaning.

And then the panic hit him. He was still in Marco’s apartment, and had just been cleaning this whole time. What if the fact that he had been doing all of this upset Marco? He wouldn’t want to anger the man he now considered his friend.

He didn’t have much time to worry about that before he heard the door opening, and Marco stepping further into his apartment. He seemed to pause, where Jean guessed was the door into the kitchen.

“Jean?” he called out softly, his voice sounding almost shaky to the Avian’s ears. Jean bit at his lip lightly, before he stepped out from the back room, where Marco’s washing machine and dryer were.

“Ah… H-Hey, Marco,” he looked up at the aspiring veterinarian hesitantly, not surprised to see Marco looking at him wide eyed, his face flushing a light red, “Um… I came by and there was a big mess, so I started cleaning up, I hope you don’t mind,” he muttered.  

Marco just shook his head a tiny bit, stepping up to Jean and tugging the avian against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around Jean’s frame. “I missed you,” he whispered, his voice soft and shaky next to Jean’s ear.

Jean nodded just a tiny bit, wrapping his arms back around Marco and burying his face in the crook of his host’s neck. He enjoyed the few moments of peace before Marco pulled back, looking over his face.

“You… You are an idiot. Why in the world would you stay outside for a week alone!?” Marco said quickly, his inner veterinarian showing as he looked over Jean worriedly, picking lightly at Jean’s wings, “You could have broken your wing worse! Or lost it completely!” he said worriedly.

Jean blinked in surprise, letting Marco pick and poke at him. “I was okay,” he insisted, letting out a soft sigh. “I went to a grocery store for food. I was okay, Marco,” he said in a quiet voice, Marco’s worry making him feel worse than he probably would have felt if the other had been angrily yelling at him, “I… I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

Marco let out a soft breath, gently running his fingers over Jean’s good wing, his fingers brushing the spot where Jean’s wing met his skin. The dirty blond shivered, quickly pulling away from Marco’s touch.

“D-Don’t touch right there… It’s sensitive, right there,” he said shakily, trying to ignore the warmth gathering in the pit of his stomach. He nearly fleed, pulling away from Marco and going into the living room.

He was surprised to see his nest-like mass of blankets still in place, though the spot seemed slept in, like someone had only just recently slept among all the blankets he had set there. Had Marco been sleeping in here since he had left? The other had seemed a bit more lethargic, and he could have sworn there were slight bags under his eyes.

He hid under the blankets, curling up and enjoying the warmth that filled him completely for the first time in days. Before he knew it, Jean’s eyes had started to droop, and they began to close, the avian falling asleep on the futon with a small, sleepy yawn.

 

Things went back to normal pretty quickly, after that. Jean was happy to adjust back to living with Marco. He learned how to cool more recipes, and finally was able to make dinner by himself, managing to have a pretty decent meal ready for Marco when he came home on days that he needed to work.

He practically became a housewife to Marco, though he found he didn’t quite mind. That beaming smile that Marco would always shoot him, and the adoring look in his eyes was more than enough in return for the avian. It was all just so domestic, though for once Jean actually enjoyed the steady routine.

That was, until his nightmares started coming back. For about a week, Jean would wake up gasping for air, sometimes even screaming out as he woke. Marco would come rushing into the room, and would have to comfort the dirty blond, no matter how much Jean tried to promise he was okay, and tell him to go back to bed.

It was a particularly bad night, tonight. Jean had fallen asleep easily enough, but soon after he closed his eyes, haunting images of large beasts and ripped wings flowed freely through his nightmares.

He woke this time screaming and crying, but for once, Marco didn’t come to comfort him. What a night for his host to finally listen to him. He slowly managed to calm himself down enough to get up, wrapping one of the fluffier blankets around his shoulders and going back down the hall towards Marco’s room.

Gently knocking at the door, Jean pushed it open a bit when he heard Marco gently mutter an answer. He carefully slipped into the room, padding over to Marco’s bed.

“Um… Can I sleep with you?” He asked softly, his face flushing a bit in embarrassment at needing to ask. Marco hummed softly in response, nodding a little and shifting over, then holding up his arm to gesture for Jean to come lay down.

“C’mon,” he said sleepily, and Jean nodded and laid down next to Marco, gently curling up against his chest. He couldn’t help but smile softly when Marco’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him up against the other’s broad chest.

Jean smiled softly, easily relaxing in Marco’s arms. The pair fell asleep again rather quickly, Jean managing to sleep through the rest of the night peacefully.

He woke the next morning as Marco shifted, sitting up and stretching out with a hum. Jean smiled softly and looked up at Marco sleepily. The dark-haired young man looked down at Jean with a small smile, brushing Jean’s hair off of his forehead, running his fingers through the longer hair at the top of the avian’s head.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” he asked softly, raising an eyebrow just slightly. Jean nodded, humming pleasantly and nuzzling Marco’s wrist.

“Yeah. How about you?” he asked softly, lifting his eyes to look up at Marco. His face was flushed lightly, tinted a light red as he watched Jean, who simply smiled back up at him.

“Good. I have to go into the clinic today, so I may not be home until six,” Marco whispered, pulling his hand back and starting to get up, “I’m going to go take a shower, feel free to stay in here and sleep, if you want to. I don’t mind if you sleep in here.”

Jean shook his head a tiny bit, sitting up and stretching his arms out. “Can I go in with you?” he asked softly, humming and yawning a bit, “I’d like to see the clinic a bit more, maybe spend some time with the animals there.”

Marco blinked in surprise, but didn’t protest, nodding his head a little bit and gesturing to Jean. “You can shower first, if you want me to cook us a quick breakfast,” he offered. Jean, though a tiny bit hesitant, took Marco’s offer, getting up and going to the living room to go and get some clothing from the bag of clothes Marco was letting him borrow.

He grabbed some simple clothing before he went into the bathroom to shower, stripping off the slightly uncomfortable clothes he had slept in the night before and turning the shower on to let the water warm up a bit.

He waited a few minutes before he got into the shower and let the water wash over him, practically moaning in delight at the feeling of the water running through the feathers of his wings. The warmth soothed his aching wings, and already Jean felt so much better. Why hadn’t he thought to do this sooner?

It didn’t take long for Jean to realize that he was completely alone in the bathroom, and that any noise he made wouldn’t be heard very well over the sound of the running water. He sighed and leaned his forehead against the wall, mentally kicking himself.

No. That would be weird, and wrong. He wasn’t even in his own home, and Jean couldn’t bear the thought of Marco actually hearing him. Or worse yet, walking in on him. But... What if he did walk in, and responded much more… positively?

The thought sent a shiver down Jean’s spine, and it was hard to deny the clench of arousal in his gut. God, he was really going to do this, wasn’t he?  He debated internally for a few long moments, before he let out a deep breath and simply let himself go for it, slipping his hand down his stomach to give his length a few good, firm tugs.

He let out a soft moan, closing his eyes and slowly sliding down to rest of the floor of the bath tub, that way he wouldn’t have to worry about his legs deciding to give out on him at any point. Jean shivered and leaned back against the wall, resting easily on his good wing, the other laying across the surface of the bath tub.

It didn’t take long for Jean to bring himself to a quivering, moaning mess, whimpering softly and tilting his head back to rest against the wall. “M-Marco,” he whined out softly, his imagination taking over. In his mind, he could picture perfectly how Marco would look with his head nestled down between Jean’s legs, sucking along his length.

He let out a sharp gasp at the thought, practically jolting as pleasure shot down his spine, straight to wind the cord in his gut even tighter. It wasn’t much longer until that cord snapped, and Jean whined slightly as he finished.

“Jean?” he barely heard Marco over the rush of the water and the quiet ringing in his ears. He snapped to reality then, sitting up straighter and quickly rinsing off his hand and thighs.

“Y-Yeah, Marco?” he called back out nervously, his voice cracking a tiny bit, much to his dismay. He could only hope Marco hadn’t heard too much, especially not his soft moans of the other man’s name.

“Are you okay in there? You sounded like you were in pain,” Marco asked, his voice sounding closer to the door now. Jean tried to get up, nearly tripping over his own shaky legs in the process.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry for worrying you. I just bumped my wing.” It was a total lie, but Marco seemed to believe him. Jean nearly squeaked out in surprise, quickly leaning against the wall to keep himself from falling over.

“Okay, make sure you don’t knock it around too much,” he hummed, his footsteps leading away from the bathroom door. Jean sighed out a breath of relief, before guilt washed over his system. Had he actually even just done that? He had lied to Marco, even. Surely though, that would be fine. Marco never had to know.

That thought helped Jean’s internal panic settle, and he carefully dried himself off, then dressed in the new clothing that he had gotten from Marco’s bag of old clothing. After combing his fingers through his hair, he let out a few shaky breaths, then went out of the bathroom.

He headed down the hall into the kitchen, smiling at Marco a bit nervously and went to get himself a glass of water. Marco hummed and smiled back at Jean, setting out a plate of food for the avian. “I’m going to go take a shower as well. Go ahead and eat without me,” he said softly.

He gently patted Jean’s shoulder as he passed, humming pleasantly to himself as he headed back to the bathroom. Jean felt a bit of his panic return. He had cleaned up after himself, right? He sure hoped that he did.

When Marco didn’t come back out to question him, Jean figured that he either hadn’t made that big of a mess, or had, without realizing it, actually cleaned up. Marco returned ten minutes later, his hair still wet and dripping slightly from his shower.

Jean couldn’t help but follow a drip of water as it slid down from his jaw and over his collar bone. He felt his mouth start to water, wondering what kind of sound Marco would make if he kissed at the other man’s collarbone, or even bit and sucked at the skin.

The avian quickly shoved those thoughts out of his mind, finishing his food and getting up to go and wash his plate. Marco ate quickly, then soon joined him at the sink, playfully bumping Jean’s shoulder.

“Leave the dishes, we can take care of them when we get home,” Marco said softly. Jean blinked, but nodded a tiny bit, finishing the dish he was washing and setting it in the rack to dry.

“Alright,” he replied simply, following after Marco as they headed out to his car, and settled into the back seat as he usually did.

The drive to the clinic was a pretty short one. They went in the back door again, and Marco led Jean back to the office, leaving him in there for the time being, with the promise that he would find Jean some way to keep from getting bored. He was gone for a good twenty minutes before he came back, several small kittens curled up in his arms. They all had very minor injuries that they were clearly recovering from, though one seemed to have broken its leg.

Jean immediately perked up a tiny bit, settling onto the floor and holding his arms out. He’d never really admit it to anyone else, especially not out loud, but it was easy for him to say that he loved cats, in general. The videos on the internet definitely helped.

One of the kittens mewled near-silently, and almost immediately Jean’s nearly melted from the cuteness of the small creature. This one was the first he picked up, nuzzling its face and not minding the pats from the kitten’s small paws against his nose and cheeks.

Marco set the other kittens gently on the floor, gently scratching a small, yet incredibly fluffy grey ones fur, looking at the kitten adoringly. “This one is mine, actually. I often leave him here when we have other cats here, so that they aren’t lonely. This is Xavier,” he hummed softly.

Jean smiled, reaching over to gently scratch behind the kitten’s ear. “Xavier, huh? What is your other kitten’s name?” he asked curiously, wiggling his fingers a bit for the kitten to pounce at with a small laugh.

“The other cat’s name is Fluffy,” he admitted, letting out a small laugh. Marco smiled softly, looking up at Jean with a look not unlike the one he had just given the kitten. Jean swore he felt his heart melt in his chest just a bit with the look.

“You named your cat Fluffy?” he asked, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he asked the question. Marco flushed, laughing in embarrassment and shrugging his shoulders.

“I was like ten when I got him, don’t judge me,” he said softly, rubbing at the nape of his neck lightly, “Besides. We all loved him, cliché name or not. My little sister adored him,” he nearly breathed the last sentence, going quiet right after.

“Go work,” Jean waved at Marco simply, knowing that keeping him busy would keep the dark haired young man’s thoughts off of his late sibling. He nodded a bit, shooting Jean a small smile before he headed out of the room.

Jean hummed and played with the kittens for a while before the door opened again, and Armin slipped inside, smiling politely at Jean.

“I see you finally came back,” he said softly, coming over to sit on the ground cross legged next to Jean. He smiled and picked up one of the kittens, cradling it close to his chest and scratching under its chin.

Jean hummed and nodded a little, happily rubbing one kitten’s soft stomach. “Yeah, I missed Marco, honestly,” he admitted, flushing lightly, “And you can’t tell him but… I think I’m really starting to like him,” he said softly.

Armin seemed to perk up then, letting out a soft gasp. “Really? Aw, that’s cute, Jean. Have you told him yet? Does he know?” he asked, gently bumping Jean’s shoulder playfully. “I think you should tell him.”

“I’m not going to tell him!” Jean flushed lightly, pushing Armin away half-heartedly and hiding his face in the kitten’s soft fur, “What if it ruins everything?” he muttered, slowly petting the mewling kitten.

Armin made a choked noise then, Jean could hear it just fine.

“Jean, really? What makes you think it could ruin everything? Marco clearly has taken a liking t you. Who says he doesn’t think the same things about you that you thing about him?” Armin pointed out, though his words just sent a deeper flush crawling along my neck and flushing my ears red.

“We are not talking about this. There’s no way I could tell him.” Jean insisted, setting the kitten down and crossing his arms over his chest, “It’s not happening.”

Armin gave me the most unexpected, sly smile, then, and Jean already began to fear for his life.

“What if I tell him, then?”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this chapter taking so long, everyone. I've had a lot going on recently and work has been dragging me through the mud. I've got a lot of plans coming up for this story though, and I don't plan on giving it up any time soon.

Jean’s reaction to Armin’s sudden offer was nearly immediate, including a sharp squawk of “No!” from the avian, as well as his face flushing to a nearly inhuman shade of red. Armin immediately began to laugh, shaking his head a little.

“Don’t worry, Jean. I won’t actually tell him if you don’t want me to,” the blond said reassuringly, gently patting Jean’s shoulder to calm him slightly. Jean quickly nodded his head, trying to smooth down the surface of his feathers to at least appear calm.

“Please don’t,” he said softly, shaking his head and looking over at Armin nearly pleadingly.

“Don’t what?” Jean suddenly heard Marco in the doorway behind him, letting out another squawk of surprise as he jolted nearly out of his skin.

“N-Nothing! It was nothing!” Jean yelped quickly, shaking his head and turning to look at Marco, despite the fact that his face was flushed a deep red in embarrassment. Marco seemed to pause in the door, raising one dark eyebrow questioningly.

“Okay… Well we can go get lunch, if you want,” Marco said a tad bit awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck, “You can come with us as well if you’d like, Armin.”

“No, no. I’ll let you two enjoy your lunch. I’m supposed to go eat with Eren today, anyway,” he said softly, a light flush filling his pale cheeks. Jean tilted his head a bit back in Armin’s direction, beginning to wonder about the two. Were they together? He hadn’t seen them around each other very often.

He hadn’t ever seen them together, now that he thought about it. The only time he had even seen them in the same building was today, but he hadn’t seen the pair interact at all, just yet.

Jean’s wings puffed out a bit as the thought, seeming to ruffle in irritation. He looked up to see Marco raising an eyebrow at him in confusion.

“Jean? Are you okay?” he asked, causing the avian to jolt in slight surprise and nod. He hadn’t even realized that he was staring straight at Marco, having spaced out completely.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay,” Jean insisted quickly, straightening up and carefully smoothing down his feathers, “Let’s go get lunch… Do we need to put the kittens back?” he asked softly. Marco nodded his head, stepping over to pick up a few of the small fluffy animals.

“Come on, let’s get them back where they belong,” Marco hummed, cradling three kittens to his chest and heading for the office door. Jean picked up the last two kittens, following after the dark haired young man.

They put the kittens in the back, closing them in their respective cages and locking them, before Jean wrapped the blanket back around his shoulders to disguise his wings. Marco smiled softly at him, leading to the way out of the building and out to his car.

Jean climbed into the back easily, curling up a bit on the back seat and carefully tucking his broken wing closer to himself. It didn’t hurt as badly as before, though the movement did cause a soft hiss of pain to slip from his throat.

“Are you okay, Jean?” Marco asked, getting into the driver’s seat and twisting in his seat to look over Jean worriedly. The avian quickly nodded, waving Marco away a bit dismissively.

“I’m fine, I’m okay,” Jean insisted quickly, nodding a bit, and smiling faintly, “It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to,” he said, curling up happily on the seat to help keep him from being seen through the windows.

“That’s good,” Marco let out a pleased hum, smiling at Jean for a moment before he turned back to the front and started his car. Jean couldn’t help but flush lightly, wiping at his face for a few brief moments to try and force down his blush.

Why was everything the other man was doing suddenly bringing this sort of reaction from him? Hadn’t Marco acted just like this before? He was only just now seeming to take the other’s lingering glances and soft smiles in this sort of way; they hadn’t bothered him before now.

It took a few minutes for them to get to the nearest food place with a drive thru, since Jean couldn’t exactly just walk into a restaurant with his feathered appendages. It really did limit just what he could do, and where he could go, having his wings.

While Marco ordered, Jean couldn’t help but lightly tug at a few of his feathers. It sent jolts down his spine, though it gave the illusion that he was simply preening his feathers. However, what he really was thinking of was just how much pain removing every feather might bring along, or how easy it would be if he simply found a way to get rid of his wings altogether.

The thought made him tremble lightly, just the thought of the pain that removing his wings would be. He hated them, hated his wings and the trouble they brought him, but he couldn’t help but feel that if Marco knew about the sensitivity of his wings, he would take quite a bit of advantage of his weakness.

Those thoughts sent a rather pleasant shiver down his spine, and he couldn’t help but smile faintly at the thought. No, Marco wouldn’t take advantage of it, he seemed as though he would be more cautious about it, asking before ever touching and then only touching with soft, reverent brushes of their skin, or the other’s fingers over the mesh of his feathers.

Jean shook his head quickly, trying to rid himself of those thoughts. Marco didn’t like him like that, and even if he did, it was highly unlikely that Jean would ever let the other man find out about the true sensitivity to his wings. That was just something he really wanted Marco to know, but also didn’t at the same time. It was a rather complicated mindset.

Marco paid for their food and got it through the drive through windows, and Jean was suddenly glad that the back windows of his car were tinted, or it was incredibly likely that he, and his wings, would have been seen and caused some sort of disturbance.

The drive back to the clinic was a rather quick one, though they simply sat out in the employee parking lot behind the building to eat their lunch, and talk idly about anything that came to mind.

At one point, Marco seemed to simply go silent, staring out at the blue-grey wooden wall they were parked in front of. It was a bit strange, really. He merely suddenly stopped replying to Jean’s words, his eyes glazed and distant as he stared at the wall before them.

“Marco? Are you okay?” Jean asked softly, gingerly touching Marco’s shoulder. The man stiffened just a bit, before he looked at Jean in surprise and a bit of confusion.

“Sorry?” Marco stared at Jean in confusion for a few long moments, before he seemed to register the avian’s words, “Oh… Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” he said, his voice soft and a bit hard to hear.

“What are you thinking about?” Jean asked, nodding just a little bit, and rubbing his thumb over Marco’s shoulder very lightly. The other man shrugged just a little, letting out a deep breath.

“My mother,” he whispered.

“What about her? Why don’t you tell me about your mother, Marco?” Jean asked softly, pulling his hand back and leaning forward to gently rest his head against Marco’s shoulder.

Marco seemed to tense a little under his cheek, though he let out a deep breath a moment later, his chest seeming to collapse under the heaviness of his exhale.

“Okay… Okay, I’ll tell you about her,” he muttered, rubbing at the bridge of his nose gently, “She was a very kind woman. She always was helping people out, or cooking. She liked to cook meals for the homeless shelter down the street; we spent a lot of time there as children, my sister and I,” he paused, letting out a deep breath.

“After my sister died… well, she lost touch with reality. She couldn’t cook without burning herself or accidentally cutting herself. It upset my father and… he began to take his anger out on her. Of course, I jumped in the way most of the time,” Marco paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Jean couldn’t help but follow the movement with his amber eyes, reaching out to gently take Marco’s hand.

“Marco… Did your dad hit you?” he asked softly, his own voice lowering until it was soft and the tiniest bit shaky. Marco nodded a little, taking his hand back and pulling up the bottom of his shirt to show the beginning of a scar, one that stretched along his side, disappearing down into his jeans.

“He did… Mom waited a year after my sister died before she-“ he broke off, taking Jean’s hand back and resting his forehead against the back of the avian’s hand, trying to hold back his tears, “She killed herself, and left me alone with my father.”

Jean froze, staring at Marco in a horrified surprise. “Marco,” he breathed, reaching out to gently trace his fingers over the scarred skin, “I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago. After mom… passed, I started failing school and got more irritated at home. It wasn’t long before I started fighting with my dad constantly. He kicked me out when I brought home a report card that mainly consisted of F’s,” Marco let out a deep breath, seeming to slowly deflate before Jean’s eyes.

Jean pulled his hand back and delicately tugged the other man’s shirt back down to cover his scar once more.

“How did you… survive?”

“I started working two jobs… managed to pull myself together just enough to pass high school, and started going to veterinary school,” Marco responded, his voice soft and weak, almost faint.

Jean felt as though the pain and sadness seeping into Marco’s voice cut straight through him, leaving an ache in his chest and a longing to find any way to make the other man happy, in whatever way he could.

People like Marco didn’t deserve tragedies like this, in Jean’s opinion. Marco was the sort of person that deserved to pass school with flying colors, to become the best veterinarian anyone had ever seen, to make lots of money and have a nice house, and a family of his own.

He didn’t deserve a dead family and an abusive father. It was then that Jean decided that he would do whatever he could to make Marco happy, no matter what it took.

“I’m sorry,” Jean whispered, gently resting his head against Marco’s shoulder and giving it a tiny, affectionate nuzzle, “Is there any way I can help? I could find a job… somewhere,” he said softly, starting to feel like a burden to the other man again.

“No, You don’t need to do that. You do enough around the house, I couldn’t possibly make you get a job, as well,” he said softly, their hands touching and fingers gently intertwining. Jean flushed lightly, but smiled, continuing to nuzzle Marco’s shoulder lightly, before he settled and simply let his cheek rest against Marco’s shoulder.

Marco hummed softly, his thumb rubbing lightly over Jean’s hand, and the avian felt as though he was melting under the affectionate gestures from his recently-realized crush. He began to wonder what it would be like to be with Marco like this all of the time, or to kiss him. His lips began to long for a kiss; even just one would have been perfect.

Jean flushed and suddenly pulled away, pretending not to hear the whine of complaint from Marco.

“Jean? Are you okay?” he asked softly, looking at the dirty blond in confusion. Jean didn’t answer other than a small nod, gently nudging Marco’s side with his elbow.

“Let’s um… We should probably head back to your house,” he spoke softly, rubbing at his face to try and hide a bit of his blush. He saw Marco glance over at him, then a small smile seemed to tug at his lips.

“Alright. We’ll go home,” he promised, starting his car again with his free hand. Jean internally cursed and tried to loosen his hand from Marco’s, though the dark-haired man shook his head a little, “Don’t worry about it. I like this,” Marco said softly, smiling over at Jean.

Jean froze, his eyes going a little wider and his face flushing darker. He nodded a tiny bit, looking over out of the window and twining their fingers back together.

Marco chuckled softly, and soon began driving them both back to his apartment. Jean couldn’t help but feel like he was going to melt against the window, the cool glass feeling rather nice against his heated cheek.

 

* * *

 

 

Jean was just glad when they finally got back to Marco’s apartment and he was able to escape into the living room to curl up among his blankets that were piled on top of the futon. Marco came into the room ten minutes later, having changed out of the uniform he had to wear at the clinic.

Jean definitely preferred him in the outfit he had changed in to. He never thought that Marco’s legs would look that good in skinny jeans.

“You looked fancy. Are you going somewhere tonight?” Jean asked, looking up at Marco curiously. He shrugged a little, smiling down at Jean.

“Well… Armin and Eren invited me over to have dinner at their place tonight. It’ll be a small party, with just a few of their friends. Would you… want to come with me?”  

“You want me to go with you?” Jean asked, pausing and looking up at Marco in surprise for a few long moments. Go to a party, with Marco? It almost sounded like the other man was asking him out on a date!

Far too excited by that thought, Jean didn’t even consider the fact that Marco had mentioned a few of Armin and Eren’s other friends. He nodded almost immediately, looking down at himself. “I don’t… have anything nice with me, though,” he said softly, only just realizing that it had been nearly a week since Marco had said he would get clothing from his own home.

Marco seemed to realize that at the same time, cursing under his breath.

“Crap, I’m so sorry, Jean. I forgot all about getting your things!” he sighed deeply, rubbing at his eyes, “We can stop by there before we go, if you’d like. Could get some of your things,” he promised, and Jean nodded a bit, starting to get up.

Now he also couldn’t wait to get some pants that actually fit him, and some of his own t-shirts and sweaters.

“Alright… I’d like to go then, it sounds like it could be fun,” Jean smiled, nodding and heading for the door, “You should wear jeans like that more often, by the way, they make you look really good,” he looked back at Marco over his shoulder, nearly grinning back at him.

Marco seemed to freeze for a few moments, before he flushed and started following after Jean, pushing at his shoulder playfully, making sure not to actually hurt him.

“Go on, dork. Let’s go get you something nice to wear,” Marco hummed, and Jean couldn’t help but smile and head on ahead out to Marco’s car. He could have sworn he saw Marco smiling softly at him, the blush he saw on the other man’s face sending a rather accomplished shiver down his spine.

Jean hummed to himself as he headed to Marco’s car, climbing carefully into the back seat and flopping across the seat, being careful of his wings, of course.

“Are you going to need me to give you directions? It’s on the other side of town,” Jean said as soon as Marco got into the car, sitting up just a bit and resting his head against the side of the car seat.

“Yeah, most likely,” Marco responded, glancing over his shoulder at Jean, and blinking in surprise when he realized how close he was. Jean nodded a bit, smiling faintly.

“It’s on 5th street. Brown apartment building,” he said softly, shrugging his shoulders a bit and leaning back in his seat again to look out his window. He was actually rather worried about the thought of Marco being in his own apartment. It was a mess, really.

Jean wasn’t very good at cleaning up after himself, and with his inability to cook real food, most of it was made up of deli food wrappers and dishes he had been too lazy to wash before. He was sure his apartment would be disgusting by now.

It didn’t take much longer for Marco to find Jean’s apartment building, the two of them getting out of the car and quickly heading up to his apartment.

Jean stopped them both at the door, rubbing at the back of his neck and shooting Marco a slightly embarrassed look.

“I’m sorry if it’s messy, in there. I don’t really remember if I cleaned before I left… So I’m sorry If it’s really gross in there,” he said softly, looking down at the floor a bit nervously.

Marco shook his head, waiting for Jean to lead the way into his apartment. Jean let out a deep breath, before he pushed the door open and led the way into the disaster area.

“It’s not that bad,” Marco said softly, as he stepped into the apartment after the avian. Jean could, however, pinpoint the exact moment Marco saw his kitchen, judging by the sudden stop to the footsteps following him and the soft, “Oh my God.”

“I tried to warn you,” Jean muttered softly, continuing into his apartment and back into his room to find clean clothes.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got this chapter out pretty fast, but started losing motivation again towards the end... I hope it's not too obvious, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter. (uwu)

It was hard trying to get comfortable knowing that Marco was in his apartment. He could practically hear the other man moving about, the sound of glass being moved and knocked against itself drifting back to the bathroom from the kitchen and living room. Was Marco cleaning for him?

The avian was a bit confused as to why the other man would bother cleaning his mess of an apartment, especially since they weren’t going to be staying here long. As soon as he got ready, they would head off to the dinner that Marco had invited him too.

A date. It was almost exactly like Marco was asking him on a date, and Jean was more than willing to let himself believe that they were going on a date together, even if it was to a party that was being held by one of the people who really wanted Marco to know that Jean felt this way about him.

Jean took a quick shower and changed before he went back out into the small living room/ kitchen space of his apartment, surprised to see that the mess from even just ten minutes before was already partially cleaned up, and all of the dirty dishes had been washed.

“I hope you don’t mind that I cleaned up a bit while you were getting,” Marco hummed as he stepped out of the kitchen area, wiping his hands off on his jeans. He looked up at Jean and froze again, his eyes immediately skimming over Jean.

He had put on a simple pair of skinny jeans and a button up, but had pulled a sweater on over it. Of course he stuck to his favorite color palette: grays and blacks. He had felt like he looked at least a little good before he had left his room, though now he could feel himself squirming under the other man’s intense gaze.

“No, No I don’t mind,” Jean said after a moment, trying to keep himself calm and making his way further into the living room, towards Marco, “You didn’t need to clean though, I could have taken care of it when I came back to living here.”

“It would have gotten even more gross by that point,” Marco pointed out, raising and eyebrow in Jean’s direction. Jean sighed deeply and nodded, heading over to the only piece of furniture he really had in his living room, and picking up his backpack from atop the ratty old couch.

“I’m going to go get some things to take back with me,” Jean said simply, heading back to his room to grab himself some proper clothes, and well as basic necessities. His own clothes, as old and dark as they were, seemed much more comforting than Marco’s large clothing in bright colors and pastels.

He only spent a few minutes packing a bag, and when he came out into the living room again, Marco was already waiting for him by the door, looking over his apartment as if it were an old friend he might never see again.

“Come on, let’s get to this dinner you so graciously asked me on a date to,” Jean teased, laughing softly when Marco’s face lit up in a bright flush.

“Date?” he seemed to squeak out the words, looking up at Jean in surprise, “Do you… consider this a date?”

Jean hesitated a few moments in thought before he nodded, his own face taking on a light flush. “Yeah… Yeah I do,” he said softly, suddenly serious again. Marco blinked in surprise for a few long moments, watching Jean curiously, “Are you okay with that?” Jean asked, looking back up at Marco.

Marco didn’t say another word, but he nodded, smiling faintly and heading for the door.

“Come on, Jean. Eren and Armin are expecting us soon,” he said, smiling back at Jean. The Avian hummed and nodded, following Marco back outside and to his car again. They both got into the car and Marco started to head off once Jean’s wings were safely tucked into the vehicle and they were both settled in their respective seats.

It was a short drive to Armin’s home, which was everything Jean imagined that the small blond would have for a home. The house itself was painted a light, pastel blue, and outside there was even so much as a white fence. It was a picture perfect home, and Jean could easily see Armin in a place like this.

Eren, though? He seemed more of the type for one of those weirdly modern homes. It almost seemed as though the two were complete opposites, so just how did they get along so well? Well, Jean was sure he would find out tonight, watching them interact all evening.

Marco got out before Jean did, the avian suddenly starting to feel self-conscious again about how he was dressed. Was it too formal, too casual? What if suddenly everyone turned on him and decided that they didn’t like him?

Jean whined slightly, looking over at Marco worriedly.

“What if they don’t like me?” he asked softly, voicing his concerns. Normally, he wouldn’t have shared such insecurities, but Marco seemed to just make him feel as though he could tell him anything; he was so kind and caring.

Perhaps that was partially because of his little sister and his mother, though Jean hadn’t heard the full story behind the death of Marco’s little sister. He couldn’t help but be curious about it. He had only heard that she died when she was young, or at least that was all that he remembered hearing about it.

“Come on, Jean. How could anyone not like you?” Marco asked, opening the back door and holding the door open for Jean, “It’ll be fine, I promise,” he said softly, smiling down at the blond with a reassuring smile and holding his hand out to Jean.

Jean hesitated a few long moments before he took Marco’s hand, carefully getting out of the car. He did, however, choose not to let go of the other man’s hand, gently intertwining their fingers and following Marco as he headed up to the door.

It took a few minutes for Armin to come to the door, though he was all smile. He looked over the pair, glancing down at their hands and shooting Jean a knowing look. He shook his head a little, nervously pulling his hand away from Marco’s and wiping it on his jeans.

Marco gave him a small look, his lower lip sticking out in a slight pout. Jean tried to ignore it, giving him a small smile in return before Armin caught his attention again.

“Hey, guys. I’m glad you both could make it,” Armin greeted cheerfully, stepping back to let them inside. The inside was almost just as nice as the outside, with mint green walls and posters and pictures of nature or Armin’s family.

“Wow… Your house is really nice, Armin,” Jean said, rather awestruck. The only places he’d ever really known had been his own crappy apartment, and Marco’s much nicer one. This wasn’t definitely a change from his usual environments.

“Thanks! Eren helped me pick out the colors when I repainted,” he hummed pleasantly, closing the door behind them and leading them into the large living room. Eren was singing along to some music coming from the radio in the kitchen, apparently cooking whatever their meal was going to be for the night.

“Is that Connie and Sasha, or Mikasa and Annie?” Eren called out when he heard them stepping into the living room, peeking out at Jean and Marco with almost a childlike excitement.

“Neither, but Mikasa said they were on their way. No word from Connie yet,” Armin answered pleasantly, looking back over at the pair, “Do you two want anything to drink? We have plenty of soda and stuff in the kitchen,” he asked, looking at Marco first. Eren seemed to cut in them, grinning at Marco.

“We have beer too, if you want it. The good kind,” Eren promised, chuckling and holding up his own bottle as if he were giving a toast, “C’mon. This is going to be a party anyway, we’ll be alright to start a little early ourselves!”

Marco seemed to think about that for a few long moments before he nodded, heading towards the kitchen,

“Jean? You want one too?” The dark-haired man asked, turning back to look at Jean curiously. He thought about that for a few long moments before he nodded, smiling faintly at Marco as he went to go get their drinks.

Everyone else arrived shortly after they did, and once the real drinks came out, everything become a bit of a blur for Jean. He wasn’t sure exactly what was happening half the time, though he remembered that he had indeed decided that he liked Connie and Sasha, and would probably want to be around them in the future.

Before he knew it, Jean found himself being pressed against one of the walls in Armin’s house. He head was spinning, and honestly he felt as though he were floating on air. The only thing that seemed to keep him in place were the hands trapping him in place, and Marco’s lips pressing down firmly against his own.

He was too out of it to even consider why Marco would be kissing him, though he practically sang with relief at finally… _finally_ feeling the other’s lips moving against his, and the other man’s arms wrapped around him.

“Nngh… God, Jean… You damn tease,” he whispered softly as he pulled back, quickly moving down to kiss along Jean’s throat. It sent a shiver down Jean’s spine. Everything did: The purr in Marco’s tone, the lips kissing at his throat, Marco’s teeth-

_Oh_

Jean gasped out softly as Marco’s teeth nipped at his collarbone, and he sucked to leave a dark, possessive mark.

“Jean… Let’s go home,” he whispered softly, his fingers lightly tracing along the hole in the back of his sweater, skimming over the mesh between his feathers and his skin.

“Marco… Marco please,” Jean whimpered, pressing his face into the crook of Marco’s neck and practically melting against him.

“Come on. Let’s get you home. I don’t want to wreck one of Armin’s guest rooms,” he purred lowly, picking Jean up and carrying him back out to his car.

Jean hardly even felt himself being laid back on the back seat of the car, nor did he pay any attention to the fact that the car was moving, not until he realized that they had stopped, and that Marco was crying up front.

Jean blinked in surprise, his mind very slowly catching up to the situation around him. Why was Marco crying? Weren’t they going home…?

“Marco?” Jean asked softly, sitting up and reaching out to gently touch Marco’s shoulder. The man flinched slightly, before he began to sob lightly. Jean somehow managed to clamber over the seat, settling into the passenger seat for only a brief moment before he gently touched Marco’s shoulder again.

“I… I did it, Jean… I killed her,” He sobbed out, rubbing at his eyes almost uselessly. Tears were streaming openly down his face, “I-I… I didn’t see the other car, the man had been drinking… and she’s the one who died.”

“Marco… Marco don’t say that… It’s not your fault,” Jean said softly, gently rubbing Marco’s shoulder, “It’s the other driver’s fault.” Marco shook his head at Jean’s words, simply accepting it as Jean rested the other’s head against his shoulder, gently petting his hair.

“It should have been me, Jean… I should have been the one that died,” he whispered, wetting Jean’s sweater with his tears. Jean immediately stiffened, shaking his head.

“Don’t.” he nearly snapped, pulling away just a little, “Don’t you dare say that. Where would you be, Marco? You’d be in the ground. I wouldn’t have been saved, you wouldn’t have saved every animal you’ve saved so far,” he insisted, starting to get teary himself.

“But-“

“If you had died,” Jean cut off Marco’s attempt to protest, shaking his head again, “Marco, if you had died, I wouldn’t have met the most amazing guy I’ve ever had a chance of meeting… I wouldn’t have fallen in love, and I would still think the world sucks. How… How dare you tell me that you should have been the one to die?” Jean hadn’t even realized that part of the way through his short rant, he had begun to cry as well, tears streaming down his face.

Marco stared at him wide eyes, obviously quite surprised.

“J-Jean?” he began, wiping at his eyes and sniffling a little as he slowly sat up again, “You… You’re in love with me?” he asked, and Jean internally panicked. Had he actually said that part out loud!?

“I- Yes… Yeah, I’m in love with you, Marco,” Jean said softly, rubbing at his own cheeks and sniffling a little, “I don’t… I don’t want to imagine what my life would be like if I hadn’t met you,” he whispered.

Marco gently cupped Jean’s cheek, wiping at his cheeks and looking into his eyes almost adoringly.

“I… I love you too, Jean,” Marco whispered, and Jean could have sworn that his heart stopped.

 

* * *

 

 

It was as soon as Jean finally understood how Marco’s sister died, that he felt like he truly understood the other male. He could finally understand every little quirk about him; why he checked each way on the road several times before actually crossing, why he always looked so sad, whenever he seemed to think that Jean wasn’t looking.

It was weird, really. Now that Jean knew the story, he felt as though he was truly seeing Marco now. He could see when Marco was upset moments before he even seemed to realize it himself. Marco had a habit of zoning out and staring into space for a few minutes before he would go absolutely silent or simply get very sad looking and disappear for a long while.

Jean had learned after one argument that when Marco disappeared, it was better to leave him alone and let him have his space for a bit. When he was quiet though, Jean knew that it was okay to cuddle up against Marco’s side and gently hold his hand.

There were quite a few routines they easily fell into. The night they had gone to Armin’s party, they began to sleep in the same bed, simply going to bed in Marco’s room and staying there for the night. Marco moved some of his things to give Jean two drawers in his dresser, as well as a bit of closet space.

It really made Jean feel like he was finally, truly at home, and he really did love every second of it. Making breakfast with Marco, and falling asleep in his arms at night; it really was amazing. They really hadn’t kissed at all since their drunken make out at Eren and Armin’s party.

They cuddled a lot though, and there were several accidental wing brushes that sent Jean running to the bathroom, face red with embarrassment.

Marco’s depressive moods began to get more uncommon as time went by, and just a few short weeks later Jean began to believe that he was finally seeing Marco’s real, true smile. He knew though, that the two of them still had many challenges that they would need to face.  

The biggest one, was that Jean was beginning to want to be more… intimate, with Marco. They hadn’t even kissed in the three weeks and four days since Armin’s party. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the feeling of Marco’s lips against his. 

 

* * *

 

 

Jean whined softly and pouted, plopping down into Marco’s lap. He sighed and rested his head on the other man’s shoulder, looking over at the movie that was currently playing on the television. His wings rested on the couch behind him, his broken one nearly fully healed by this point.

It was nice to be able to move around freely without his wing hurting him too badly. He was able to bend his wing a bit, though mostly it was just sore, at this point. It made it much easier to sit like this with Marco, and even made the gentle touches along his back and spine that much more pleasant.  

“What are you watching?” Jean asked, nuzzling Marco’s jaw and pressing small kisses along the skin. Marco hummed, tensing a little under Jean’s affection.

“Mmh... Rise of The Guardians,” he answered, chuckling softly. Jean could feel the vibrations of Marco’s laughter, smiling softly.

“Can we kiss?” Jean blurted out, pulling back a little and looking up at Marco. The dark-haired young man blinked in surprise, his freckled cheeks lighting up in a deep blush.

“Do you… want to-“

“Yes,” Jean’s response was immediate, and he flushed darkly in embarassment and looked down, “I… I really do.”

“O-Okay,” Marco whispered, looking up at Jean and gently cupping his cheek. He looks over Jean’s face for a few long moments, before he leaned in and pressed their lips together, though he was much more hesitant than last time.

Jean really only had one question, then… Why wasn’t Marco being as dominating as before? When they had been kissing before, Marco had been like… purring at him, and nipping and such. And that had sent the most pleasant shivers down his spine.

Jean hesitated for just a brief moment before he cautiously parted his lips, gently nibbling at Marco’s lower lip. The other man made a small noise, and then suddenly Jean found himself fully facing Marco, the other’s teeth nipping and tugging at his lower lip.

Jean couldn’t help but left out a soft moan, whining softly when Marco pulled away, resting their foreheads together.

“I love you,” Marco whispered, and Jean felt his chest warm with the words. He hummed pleasantly and rested his head against Marco’s shoulder, nuzzling his jaw affectionately.

“I love you too, Freckles.”


End file.
